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The Son of Nature
This is a story that I heard from my grandfather, who spent his life measuring the Glob, few days before he passed away. He said he heard it from his grandfather who heard it from his grandfather who heard it from his grandfather who … (a very long chain of grandfathers transmitting stories and information, orally. generation to generation!).
He said:
I had been told about a baby who found himself a lone, there in an isolated island, in the Indian Ocean!
The baby was crying out of hunger and loneliness!
It happened that there was a deer strolling out there looking for her lost kid.
She heard the baby's cries so she came to him. She looked at him. By her natural hunch she knew that he needed some milk, so she pressed her breast on his little mouth.
He, by his natural instinct, knew that was what he wanted in that situation as a temporary solution. At least to be able to get enough energy to enable him to think about what would happen tomorrow.
But how a baby would happen to be an island like that, I asked!
Grandfather, then, replied: no one know for sure but there were speculation about that.
I waited enthusiastically to spell out that speculation for me but I noticed that his eyes are, slowly, closing and his big head is going down, slowly, to the table.
That is why I raised my voice: what are those speculations?
He, then, opened his eyes, as if coming back from the deep past, to say: some people said that his mother had to put him into a box and drop the box into the ocean, while others said that he was born by a specific spot of soil in that Island.
At this point, my rational triggered my emotion: do you expect me to believe that? Put her baby in a box and dropped it into the ocean? What was that? An express mail?! a speed post?! A DHL?! To whom it may concern? And a soil that gives birth to babies! Do you believe that grandfather?
My Grandfather then got upset and got up saying: Okay, son, If you don't believe in what I say, I should go to bed. I need to sleep.
For the sake of curiosity, I found me begging him to stay more and tell me more about that story claiming that I will subject it to my analysis tools tomorrow morning before I go to school.
He was kind enough to sit saying: okay, I tell you the story and it's up to you if you like to comprehend it or put it in your anal shit pools or to tell it to fools. I just have to get rid of the story
(to be continued)
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(Here, in this station, I have to stop telling the story because my train just arrived. May be I will meet you randomly at another station and try to narrate the rest of my story. One day I will be able to finish what have started even if I find it necessary to tell it to stations walls who are patient enough to listen to people like me. )
