from Stanislaw Warda: Sunday Beach/these feelings when I was able to run from the other room because of sentences

Sunday Beach

The TV anchor fixed her make up. She looked at the mirror and a bunch of makeup specialists did the last improvement. After one hour, she is still  on my TV screen  and do not have any idea what she is talking about. 

If she would spend half of the time which she uses to maintain her look to read the material which she has to present, perhaps I would remember it longer.  

I think with nostalgia about the times when I would turn on the volume on the radio in my car because  words or sentences inspired me. I do not remember when I did it lately, perhaps last time was soon after the beginning of our millennium. I remember these feelings when I was able to run from the other room to the living room to see what the TV anchor was talking about because the sentences, their meaning and syntax was composed beautifully and could  catch attention even if you do not see a person. Unfortunately, it has already gone with the appearing internet, cellphones, and social media.

Now sentences look different. They are  short message typed with shortcuts on the cellphones, and everybody knows everything. It is not interesting, the psychology knows the proper term of it, but nobody cares.

Nevertheless, the “Last Mohicans” still exist On Sunday of Labor Day’s weekend, I was on the beach in Chicago. There were a bunch of people, fishermen, swimmers, bodies curved beautifully in the fitness clubs and tons of tattoos. Everybody looked at the small screens on their cellphones.

Among those “normal” people were two individuals. Two ladies  were sitting on their chairs; no cellphones, no tattoos - horror of horror. Additionally, they read books. Yes, books. Not any audio or Netflix only real paper books. The wind gently bothered their paper pages, but they  did not  became angry, but naturally, in a gently way held  these pages with their naturally nails. How could anyone do some things, I thought?

People like that, I thought with horror, can pull out some notebook and even write  some notes. Maybe they are even able to pull out their fountain pens. Would anyone look at it in horror?