on people (II)

i like old people. i really do. i remember once, in a long trip back home, the most interesting conversation i've had with an elder, whose hair was white as a snowfield and whose eyes were as deep as darkness beyond us. he had no studies, not as i or most people around my age have. yet he had a life, a long life of experience and valuable knowledge that lies in no book. he had build ships, he told me, in this big shipyard in south africa. and there was nothing that he liked more than ships, sailing through the ocean. he took one, once, to come back to europe. yet he didn't come to work, but to fight, for the world war two was laying waste across the old continent. i was astonished to hear this, to know a portuguese man who fought the war when his nation declared neutrality. for a moment, i thought he was mistaken - but the stories he told me shown no mistake at all. i never saw him again. i don't know if his hair is still white, if his eyes are still deep or if his hands are still shaking like falling leaves blown by the autumn wind. but i'd really like to see him again.

today i met someone inspiring, to say the least (who triggered the memories above). an old journalist with a refined sense of humour, an astonishing knowledge about pretty much everything, and a conversation that can be anything but boring. most people that know me have heard me saying many times that i don't want to get old - what i mean is, i don't want to be a burden to anyone, nor do i want to end my life in pain and despair. but if i get to the age of 80 or something like that, i'd like to be like both these gentlemen: to have a great sense of humour and many stories to tell. and to have someone who would care to listen to me.