Mr. Tasha left his house at nine in the morning.
He decided to go to the park.
He walked for a while until he reached a beautiful garden filled with roses in many bright, vivid colors.
Entering it made one forget that they were in a city crowded with skyscrapers and surrounded by concrete everywhere.
Tall trees, A gentle breeze, The sound of birds.
Mr. Tasha looked around and noticed an empty bench.
He sat down, crossed one leg over the other, clasped his hands together, and began a new cycle of thinking through observation.
He looked at the people sitting on benches and those walking by.
Some were running, some walking their dogs. There were those with their children, others with a girlfriend or lover. Groups of friends gathered together.
Rising noise everywhere.
People were different, yet Mr. Tasha saw something beautiful now.
One simple truth: no matter how much humans gather together, they remain alone.
Loneliness was a common factor shared by all people.
The elderly man sat on a bench, even with children and grandchildren, he could not escape his loneliness.
The man and his lover, despite their feelings and closeness, were still different individuals. They felt loneliness, and love did not erase it.
Friends gathered together, no matter how much they smiled and interacted, once they parted, they would be alone again.
It was difficult for people to accept this truth.
They rejected it.
They fled from it.
Being alone was hard. Life was harsh, and the world was harsh.
Why, then, did people flee from loneliness? Because they lacked the strength to endure it.
To be alone meant to be real.
Mr. Tasha thought that some people would reject his thoughts and argue that humans, since ancient times, had formed societies and fought loneliness through belonging and cooperation.
Their view was both right and wrong.
Even if society appeared to fight loneliness throughout history, it never truly did. It merely covered it with a mask, a theatrical curtain.
Society was a grand play filled with countless actors, That was humanity.
Despite all this, Mr. Tasha did not judge anyone. His thoughts were not absolute, They held both truth and error.
He believed that the moment he began passing judgments, he would fall into arrogance and pride, blinding himself from seeing the truth and reaching wisdom.
So Mr. Tasha observed and tried only to understand them.
To understand their nature.
To understand what they hid behind smiles and frustrations.
Not all anger was real.
Not all love was real.
Every emotion concealed a truth.
An actor might show anger while remaining calm inside, or show love while harboring resentment.
'People are broken, different, similar, lonely, strange… they are everyone.'
Mr. Tasha leaned his head back as he thought.
What was Mr. Tasha himself?
He was human too.
He was like them.
He did not use his wealth or status as an excuse to feel superior.
He humbled himself before people and before himself.
Mr. Tasha stood up and began walking, clasping his hands behind his back.
Still lost in thought.
He reached the main street and took a taxi.
"Good morning, sir. Where to?" asked the young taxi driver.
"To the nearest theater, Any one." Mr. Tasha replied calmly.
…
Fifteen minutes later.
Mr. Tasha stepped out of the taxi and looked at the theater's entrance.
He went inside and bought a ticket, His seat number was eighteen.
He sat down and watched the play, which had begun moments before he entered.
The story was trivial: a man saves a foolish princess who fell into a well, becomes a knight, marries her, and they have a beautiful prince or princess... A happy ending everyone loved.
What impressed Mr. Tasha, however, were the children performing the play.
They were preparing themselves to master the role of actors in society's theater, remarkably well.
'What role am I playing in this play?'
A compelling question crossed Mr. Tasha's mind.
What was his role?
He thought quietly, waiting for the answer.
The predictable play ended, and Mr. Tasha rose and left the theater.
He took another taxi and headed toward a popular market.
The crowd was overwhelming, Endless congestion.
Even though Mr. Tasha had lived this kind of life before, it was still uncomfortable.
The people here were like a river, different as well.
No matter how different people's upbringings were, they would always be similar in some ways, yet they believed themselves different because of identity.
Even without that sense of identity, they shared common traits and many differences.
…
After half an hour, Mr. Tasha finally exited the market from the opposite side.
He had chosen to walk through it again, to test his feelings, to reach this place.
Here was the end of the market, a few houses, and the beginning of a beautiful green land, followed only by farmlands.
A beautiful scene reflecting the effort of each individual, Different efforts, Different personalities.
Everything humans did reflected their true nature.
Mr. Tasha looked around and thought that everyone had a role.
Then he thought of his own role once more.
He was merely a blind man searching for his light.
...