• With his head in his hands, and tears running from his eyes. Jimi came to his old grandmother’s farm. Lifting his head and looking around, he saw no one. He felt alone. Not alone like when you're in an empty bar, but alone, like when you’re in the middle of a huge crowd and feel so alone that you could die from it. Running out on the field, he hoped there would be at least somebody, but his effort was in vain. A strong feeling of despair hit him, it hit him so hard that he grabbed his chest from the pain and toppled down on his knees. He sat there, in the middle of the field, he sat.
    Time passed by and the pain in his chest did not go away. At the time an old man, no an ancient man came on the path. He could see the small boy, sobbing and sitting alone in the field. 'Why not?’ The man thought to himself.
    Slowly he walked to the young boy and sat down on the ground beside him. “Tell me young one, why are you crying.” The old man’s voice was low and grumbling, yet its sound could calm down even the stormiest minds. It was soothing and enchanting. The boy stopped crying and lifted his head. He looked into the old man and without notice began staring into the old man’s eyes. The old man’s eyes were violet and there was some blue in them as well, the age taking its tool. Even though they were old an immense power radiated from the old man’s eyes. “Well young one what is it.” The old man said again. His voice broke the child stare and dazzle in the old man’s eyes. The old man knew what happened and smiled. Even grown up people have a problem of losing themselves in these old eyes.
    “It-it-it it isn’t fair. They left and now they’re gone won’t see them, I’m alone, without friends, why are they so mean.” The child quickly began while sobbing. The old man raised his hands and gently touched the boy with his palm stretched open. “Calm down my boy, I don’t understand a thing. Why don’t you start again, slowly and from the start? Take your time, neither of us will die of old age anytime soon. So we have time.” The old man said putting his straw hat to the ground and setting himself comfortable, ready to listen to the child’s story and problem. The child waited for the old man to stop moving. He looked at the old man and hiss slow moving, not understanding that it is hard for the old man to find a comfy position. Once the old man settled their eye meet, and Jimi told how terrible the world is. “We were all friends’ good friends. We ran around together and we played together. On Saturdays we all ate at someone’s place. It was fun. But now all the grownups decided to leave the village, and so my friends are leaving.” Jimi began to calm down, every once and awhile he rubbed his eyes with his small hands. Having someone, even a stranger listen to his problem already helped chase, the pain in his chest, away. “I don’t want to be alone old man. I want my friends back. Why are their parents so evil, why do they have to go somewhere, we all lived comfortably till now. Why?” Jimi said and stared into the old man hoping for a miracle. The old man let out a small laugh. “Ahh… the simplicities of youth.” He said and looked into the air. Then he looked back into the boy and put his hand on the boys shoulder. His hand was old and wrinkled, the knuckles were swollen, and the bones held little meat on them. “Listen here boy. Life is an interesting thing. It may be dark and it may be bright. One can find oneself in company of friends or alone on the road. It can be wet, or it can be dry. But know this, life is never still. It is in constant movement, trust me. No one is that friendly with life, for it to stop for him. And the parents of your friends are not evil, they are simply doing what they think is best, the same as your parents.” The old man explained. “But now I’m alone, with whom will I play. I’m sad.” The boy explained in protest. “At the moment you are alone, yes. But there is a reason why. You may not see it now, but you might when you get older. As for the friends… Don’t be sad. People come and people go, as we travel on the path of life. The important thing is that we enjoy the run with these people to its best. Did you enjoy their company?” The boy nodded. “Did you make good memories?” Old man asked again and the boy nodded. “That is important. Now you must get ready to enjoy new time, with new friends who are yet to come. And make new good memories. Once when you’re as old as me, those memories is all you have. So live your youth to the fullest, so that when you’re as old as me, you will have tales to tel. good tales, happy tales and sad tales.” The boy’s mood brightened up.
    “Okay mister I get it…. But how old are you?” The boy asked his face blank and sincere. “How old am i?” the question took the old man by surprise. He thought for a moment, and then a small smile drew on his face.” I’ll put it like this boy. I was twenty years old when I was at the wall of Gundara castle, in time of Berlag wars.” In that moment Jimi’s mother called for the boy.
    Jimi turned towards the house then back to the old man, but the old man was gone and again he was alone in the field. The wind blew and something brushed Jimi’s leg. The boy looked down and at his feet laid the old man’s straw hat. His mother came from the house and grabbed Jimi by the shoulder. “What are you doing my son” she asked. The boy looked at her, the hat in his hands. “I was talking to an old man. He said he was in the Berlag wars.” Jimi smiled. Together with his mother they went back into the house. “Berlag wars? You misunderstood my boy. Berlag wars happened half a century ago, when the last of the violet eyed gods left this world.”