Best Nationalist I Ever Met
I saw a new face of ‘nationalism’ yesterday. It’s kind of funny, if I don’t let myself dive into the arterial meaning of modern psychotic borderline fascism, where patriotism gets narrower definition day by day and blood turns to bluer. I just got down from metro. As usual I was late – so my legs were literally dragging my fat buttock and fatter stomach in a definitive hope to reach office before somebody started looking for me. I was being old, as I could see young boys and girls, mostly in black lawyers’ hood were passing me. They didn’t seem to be in hurry, but they were faster, even after my fiercest pushing of myself. I ran down the stairs and walked fast. I felt that someone was pulling my shirt from behind. I looked over my shoulder and noticed a mid-aged person with a straight face and moving lips. He was saying something to me. I removed my earpiece and smiled to him with an ‘amsawee’, which he didn’t bother to listen or reply to – he was into his own words.