what we think of others, that’s what we are, as well

Man lives only a very small part of his infinitely rich spiritual domain. Usually only one surface layer. He doesn’t even know about the rest. I borrowed Zoli. For a long time he cycled with someone else.

One day Zoli was pushing his bicycle in the street, whistling, singing, when he saw a small tuber in front of him on the road. He propped the bike against the wall, and then he left it there. Because when he bent closer, he saw that the tuber wasn’t actually a tuber after all, but a thistle, which immediately stuck to his hand. Zoli just looked at it. He blew cigarette smoke on the thistle. The thistle started stretching itself. Thank you, the thistle started to speak. Zoli was a little confused. He bent even closer to the thistle, and then he saw that he wasn’t holding a thistle at all, but a tiny little bird. Suddenly he felt like something wrung on his heart. It hurt. He felt like someone was unpacking what he had been hiding for years, and was now holding it with his bare hands. He felt he like he himself was just a tiny little bird. He felt that the tiny little bird shivered too; it must have been thinking about the same thing. If needed, I’ll cycle with you for 133 years, said the little bird. Then Zoli the Turk and the little bird’s soul shivered again.