MY RETURN
A piece of paper was stuck to the polished stone of the church – “Please turn off your cellphones when you enter.” Why did I kill you? I turn off my phone. I enter. I’m sweating…
Mass is being celebrated. The priest is singing, but almost to himself, nothing can be heard. There are many people in the church. They’ve come to you, they are asking you, begging, threatening, they have locked tight the doors of their souls before coming. Why are they scared of you in your own home? They don’t dare spit in your face…
I don’t believe in God but, for some reason, I am convinced that he believes in me. I can’t look him in the eyes, but his sad face gives me no peace. It would have been good if he could forget, if he could look past my presence. In the icon, Jesus’ face grows gloomier.
