On this visit to my hometown, I was reminded of my last visits as I walked across the River Green. The river looked like a huge sheet of dirty green water while in my memory it was always a shiny green.
The last visits were on deaths; I never cried enough though I was carrying a cross and stood brave among the wailing women. But this time, though on a happy occasion, I felt the tears as they tumbled past on my return journey.
What all things I cried for I have no clue, the wasted years in search of a mirage, the lost opportunities, the life of strife and constant unpleasantness. But it gave me clue to a puzzle: that I might become for you a mirage that you will follow yourself to destruction.