The lonely pilgrim

by Teodora - Andreea Rinciog (Romania)

A leap into the unknown Romania

People are always afraid of death. “But why?” I keep asking a little piece of my heart. “Because…” she whispers” dying means you are lonely, and we are afraid of loneliness.” She was right. We are not afraid of dying, we are afraid of ending. The ending brings loneliness. But souls are trickier than bodies, they need a lot more space to manifest. Thus, a bit shy, yet very excited, I decided to make my first trip alone. At 3 p.m. on a Sunday in mid-December, I was in Brighton, after one hour journey by train from London. It all seemed a little crazy- who would visit a seaside town in the middle of the winter? I was wandering around the train station when I spotted my first destination. Hidden under a bridge, there was a tiny toy museum. Seeing toys of my time standing next to Victorian toys sparked an intensifying feeling of joy within me. A joy that only a child could have, no matter the century they were born in. “Children are wise,” was a phrase I heard many times, yet never really understood. I felt so much joy around me, in every toy, cheap or expensive, old or new, cotton or plastic. Children are capable of being the happiest humans, and this makes them the wisest as well. I was walking down the streets with my heart full of joy, when I happened upon the splendid Royal Pavilion, the UK’s oriental castle. I went inside, and I saw the most mesmerizing objects of incredible grandeur. Yet what drew me most to the castle was thinking about the forgotten stories of the people that were not in the spotlight: the maids, cooks, valets. Where are they now? How many thousands of stories passed, standing where I stood? It was getting dark. I started to walk towards the sea. By the time I got there, it was completely dark. The whole coastline felt empty, bar one; there was a boy with a hoody standing there and facing the sea. Like he was seeing something there that only he could. He was swinging in the wind, like he was leaving his thoughts to get tangled in it, to float far away to places he never even imagined. I watched him; it was like he could hear the secrets of the ocean and I could hear the secrets of his mind. I could not stop myself from wondering which gifts the winter sea was giving to this lonely boy. Which was the gift that he was taking into his heart now above any other freedoms a Sunday evening could offer? Following a voice that whispered in my heart, I walked down the dunes of small pebbles, towards the sea. I passed along the boy with the hoody. Although I wanted to so much, I didn’t turn my head to see his face. I knew that staring at the sea was the only way to see what was happening above that face- in that mind. It was a cold night, and my body felt like it was freezing. I put my hand forward, into the unknown of the sea at night. I touched it, and it felt as if my mind had stopped; it felt warm like a child’s laugh. All the world’s love was stored there, to sustain those who had no love in life. All the world’s beauty was dawning for on me at once, in one touch of unexpectedly warm winter seawater in a cold, dark night. I turned around. The boy was not there anymore. I was alone on the beach. And yet, my heart felt no regret; I did not feel alone. All the questions I would have asked the boy with the hoodie remained unanswered. And yet, I knew all the answers. I remembered how lonely I felt the day before. I thought about all the people that may be lonely now. And I made a wish. One day, those who’re scared will come and touch the water too. And they will feel the warmth of one thousand hugs left there for them, by me. They will not be alone anymore.