It is not easy to write about simple things.

I have spoken of them before, in my entry about Heroes.

To remind once again about boredom — and thus turn into a moralizer and a bore?

 

I have heard this many times among people.

I spoke to them of simple truths — but they found them primitive.

I showed them where to begin — but they wanted only the result.

I gave them the chance to bake bread to ease their hunger — but they wanted money.

They wanted a dream. Something beautiful, seen through time and distance, something that keeps one awake at night, makes the heart beat faster, and leaves the head spinning.

 

And yes — we, Angels, help one draw closer to a dream.

We do not do it in place of a person.

We do not build the path for them.

We give simple advice — about what can be done by one’s own hand.

 

Here, for example, is a woman at a table.

She describes in detail a luxurious yacht:

the finishes, the size,

the linens on the beds in the cabins, and even the crew’s uniforms.

Everything looks flawless.

 

She tells how a limousine will bring her to the port.

How she will be escorted to the pier.

How, wearing an elegant dress,

she will flutter up the gangway

and step onto a deck of redwood.

 

A phone on the table begins to buzz.

She irritably rejects the call

and turns the screen face down.

 

She continues her story —

how she will go up to the upper deck,

where a table is already set with expensive wine, fruit, and cheese.

How she will wave to her friend

who has come to spend the weekend with her.

 

He is shocked.

Amazed.

They escort him to her.

 

The vessel departs.

They sail toward the horizon,

turning their faces to the sun

and the salty wind.

 

She takes his hand…

 

Again the insistent buzzing.

A cold glance at the screen.

Rejected.

With lips tightly pressed,

she turns off the phone

and slips it into a lovely handbag.

 

…and says, looking into his astonished eyes:

 

“I love you, and I want to spend my whole life with you.

I know you are the heir to a wealthy dynasty,

but now we are equal —

and we can be together.”

 

A beautiful dream.

Worthy of fulfillment without delay.

 

She is invited into a private room.

A cup of coffee.

I sit opposite her

and extend to her… a phone.

 

…

 

In her eyes —

anger,

astonishment,

and irritation all at once.

 

“A fine choice, and a worthy desire,” I say.

“Do not delay. Call him.

He will be glad to hear your words of love.

The number is already dialed —

you only need to press ‘Call.’”

 

“But I asked for something else.”

 

Such stubbornness —

a refusal to acknowledge one’s true desire,

hiding it beneath an impenetrable wrapper,

like a candy that cannot be recognized

under a beautiful wrapper.

 

Very well.

I will be more formal.

 

“You did not ask.

You never once said ‘give.’

You said: ‘I want to spend my whole life with you.’

And that is a beautiful desire,

worthy of fulfillment.

 

Here is the phone.

Call him.

He is waiting for your words.”

 

“No,” she replies.

“I will not say a word

until I stand equal with him.”

 

I nod

and lean back in my chair.

 

“I understand you. Look.

Here is the phone — you may call him.

Yourself. It is simple.

 

And here is the exit,”

I gesture toward the door.

“And you may go on toward wealth on your own.

I am sure you will manage.

 

We honor your choice here,

and in either case we will remain with you.

But the decision is yours alone.”

 

She jumps up

and storms out in fury.

 

I hear angry curses

behind the door.

 

Well then —

refusal is not failure.

Refusal is a decision.

 

For a dream, it is not always necessary to do something complicated.

Sometimes it is enough to speak the words

or simply look into another’s eyes.

 

Love lives without yachts,

and across different social ranks.

It should not be kept

in the chains of conditions.

 

And yes.

We, Angels, do not destroy dreams.

We only return them

to the place

where a choice must be made.

 

And I will make a note of this

in the Chronicle.