THE CAVE: From shadow to light

CHAPTER VII - Turban

CHAPTER VII
Turban

Okay, Casper, you move! Let me go now, I don't want to laugh anymore.
The random soldier I addressed, gently grabs my arm, legs, lifts me up, I expect a very painful MMA wrestling technique to make me shut up my mouth for good, put my arm around his neck, one arm under my two knees and the other under my back, and walks quietly towards the hallways. Giiiirl ! This is the most romantic kidnapping I have seen in my life !!!!!! I'm on the verge of asking him to kidnap me again, every day, I'm ready to annoy him as long as he lives. Do you know how many men carried me like this in my life? if only my dad the day I was born.
That's pleasant, I feel like I'm sitting on the back of a horse, feeling his steps dictating the movements of my body. Does he love me ? wait ! no, of course, he's just executing the rules of his master, "Her", I almost forgot her, this, everything that's happening right now. Focus Alia, focus ! By the way ...

- Where are we going ? We... I mean I, I mean WHERE ARE YOU BRINGING ME LIKE THIS ?
- ....
- What ? Have you lost your tongue ?
- ...
- You don't speak English ?
- ....
- You're muted ?
- ....
- Damn you're a romantic kidnapper but you're a boring boy I'm telling you, if you continue like this you'll have a hard time dating a woman, if it's not already the case of course, are you single? No because if you have no conversation how can you expect to share anything with someone ? It's mandatory, I mean, yes ! Communication is the key Buddy !
- ....
- Ok ... you don't have the key, nor the safe deposit box. Ok, put me on the floor now, that's enough.
- Your breath stink.
- Oh... Uhm... Sorry. Keep kidnapping me. I won't talk anymore.
- Thank you.

Am I hallucinating ! Those specimens are literally with us for hours, several attempts to talk to them by me and Ali, and the first word I hear from one of them is that my breath stinks ? I am touched ! He has hurt my feelings now. I don't want him to kidnap me anymore. And after all, I'm sure he's ugly and that's the reason why he doesn't show his face and give you the illusion that because he has blue eyes, he's handsome. Yes ! I'm angry ! After all, I walked through the desert for hours, I swam, I didn't swallow anything except water from a water point that sucked me in. You can't judge people's breath without knowing what they've been through in life! That's unfair!.

We reach a huge room, as sumptuous as all the other parts seen before inside the building, he enters there, with me, still in his arms, and places me gently, on an enormous bed, placed there, in the middle of the huge room, and leaves.
I'm now here, alone, in a beautiful room, brought by a beautiful eyed individual, in a beautiful way, because a beautiful woman made me mad. I've also missed the opportunity to try a beautiful feast that was just in front of me, in a beautiful palace... It's a beautiful shit!

On a corner, I see a make-up table, a dressing table, whatever you call it. It is empty, no cosmetics or perfumes appear on it, only a gigantic mirror. I head there and decide to sit in front, to get an idea of ​​what my face looks like after all these peripeteias and episodes of stress. I'm afraid of what I'm going to see, I didn't brush my hair nor my teeth and I ignore since how long exactly I didn't shower.
As soon as I sit down, and as strange as it can be, a message appears in the mirror:

What do you see? What do I see...? I start thinking, I see myself here, sitting, alone, in an immensely spacious room, to believe it is empty, but nevertheless well and truly full, I see a woman, full of doubts, stressed and confused, lost, beautiful but not too much.

The mirror continues and this time appears: Where are you?. Where am I? I'm still trying to figure it out... In my imagination maybe? In a parallel world, another dimension? Dead? Alive but not conscious? In the kingdom of a woman we never heard about in history courses? my answer would be, the place I am now, is "lost".

The mirror to continue: Who is this her? Her? Honestly, she is the incarnation of the feminine ideal i've always build in my head, a beautiful woman to lose sight of it, slender to twist your neck to be able to succeed in following her curves from start to end, a confident and powerful woman, who rules her world with firmness, a successful woman who succeeds in everything she does, and who knows what she wants to do with her life, a woman who has everything and needs nothing, and no one, because she accomplished all her dreams just by the help of her two hands and no one to tell her that, whatever is in her life, it's thanks to them. A woman respected by the men around her, no matter how many there are.

The mirror goes on: Who are these soldiers? These soldiers? They are the representation of the image I have of men, a strong and dark human being, beautiful, mysterious, incomprehensible and inaudible, gentle and respectful in its most beautiful asset, cutting the heart like a sword in its worst asset, they veil their face, or I veil my face, a little of both. They are also guardians of my safety, watching over me constantly, their stick symbolizes the righteousness of their heart when you are important to them, that they are covered with black clothing and only let their eyes appear, their inner beauty will always take more importance above their exterior beauty, a man is more attractive when he opens the deepest part hidden in him, which is not black, but blue, when he is not ashamed to express his weaknesses. Man has physical strength that I haven't, dangerous and scary if badly used, adorable and reassuring if well used. His silence is the reflection of the ideal of them being virile but, who does not seek to poison a woman's anger, but on the contrary, soothes it with its sweetness.

And the feast? The feast, actually, being able to feed yourself with your hunger, and drink with your thirst, having the most succulent dishes, is the true wealth of this world. Nature takes good care of us, it only lives for our flourishing, let's talk about it like poetry.

And the palace? The palace is the abode of accomplishment, the comfort of the palace in which you want to settle down and not move anymore, a security and a pleasure united inside bricks and cement, forming a solid bulwark against the evil of the discomfort, a place where you feel at home, where no one will ever tell you that you are out of place. A place where you build everything, your person, a family, friendships. A place where you express your art, your artistic interior, your colors, your tastes, your dispositions your smells, and no one to tell you how you are supposed to do. Spaciousness and airyness, it is the illusion of not being suffocated by any unhealthy soul that prowls around.

Who is Ali? Ali? He is the intermediary, he is the common thread, he is the meeting that brought me to my consciousness and helped me to open my eyes and look at things that I did not see before, because I was too busy concentrating on futilities. Ali, is the human embodiment of the path that people must take when in search of themselves. This path started by pure chance, then continued with doubts and silences, then followed by surprises and taking risks, to end with the truth. Ali did not influence my conscience with words, but with his silence and his actions, showing me the way in and out, and leaving me to myself, to deduce with my own ideas.

What do you see? ....I see an awakened conscience.

*Flight AF8645 for Paris is ready for boarding, we ask to all the passengers to go to the gate number C32*