Prose

Once upon a time, in the lands of Anatolia, there was a legend about a “Devil’s Table”. The place is now what is left from a volcano destruction occurred many centuries ago and a place where tourists go and visit the famous footprints –at least the image- in a cage and watch the beautiful sunset and have a sip of their tea or coffee maybe. 
The legend I am about to tell is based  not on the centuries ago, but near past. 
    Different kinds of people do go here each and every day. This is not even a question. But I went there yesterday and saw the picture. The choice of believing or not believing in my story is based upon you.
    I thought I arrived forty or forty-five minutes before the sunset. There were tourists everywhere sitting and waiting, or visiting the famous “cage”. In the entry, there were people reading the legend written on a large book. Later, is about a bit of confusion. I was all alone with so many people around me and talking at the same time. My legs were aching, so I just sat in the first table I found. There were photographers, poets, writers, adventurers and roamers everywhere. Photographers were trying to be the first person to capture a very good photo. Poets and writers were trying to be the first to write the very best and have the most original idea. Adventurers were trying to be the first to discover things that others would only see in their dreams, so they were writing down notes. Some roamers were sleeping and dreaming about the possible off-the-wall dreams. The ones left were sitting or walking. 
    This was the very first picture I remember. One thing I would like to add, is the hunger and “this is my place”, “this is my photo” kind of selfishness in people’s eyes. In that case, there were thousands of photos and poses, thousands of words having written, thousands of prints and details having discovered and thousands of meters people walked.  
    Twenty minutes passed, and I was still sitting in my corner, “far from the madding crowd”. I brought a book with me, as I was trying to set a record of reading the same sentence about… I don’t know. After a while, the sun moved behind the clouds and it was a magnificent moment. Everyone from their corner moved a little closer to the sun. It was crowdy and the worst thing was that the people had already lost their humanly senses and fought for “the better”. It was all now, not surprisingly.
    Fifteen minutes passed. The sun was about to set, now. I was drinking my beer and watching it farer than anyone. Anyway, the photos were taken, the words were written, the evidences and memoirs were there, and purest dreams were dreamt (they had already waken up)…
   The sun set and I could see the satisfaction in each person’s eyes. But I, sat all that time, had only my eyes. I didn’t capture, write, dream, discover or anything. But something I knew was lack. People were all leaving – leaving the darkness alone. Some of them had gone already. But I stayed. I stayed and closed my eyes – closed them because there were too much selfishness already. I closed and dreamt that it was still forty minutes ago and there weren’t a single person back then. These dreams were nearly as the reality. I was capturing a great photo and it all seemed true to me.
   The time I woke up, I was still in “Devil’s Table”. It was a bit dark but still there was a light. I, later –in about two minutes- realized the sun was about to rise and not a single soul were there in time!