I am sitting in a train, road to the city, and I hear the following conversation:
When the holidays arrive, I will choose my favourite books and I will read them - she says.
Since the academic year began, I have not read any book that I really like - he says.
Yes, it is very sad - she says.
Well, yes, that's true - he says, while he's looking down and the train stops at the next station.
I do not know their names nor their professions. Quite possibly they are high school or university professors. They seem well-trained people, with a restless intellect and desire to learn. However, they have to wait for the holidays to read their favourite books. What does the term "holiday" mean?
The people who are surrounding me seem to have fun and they show a glimmer of happiness while they use their phones and other electronic devices. What is the point of "living" for them? And, what about myself? For me too, holidays should come, and I will be able to read my favourite books. And, until then, we will use Facebook and shilly-shally.
The passenger who is sitting on my right is travelling with a dog. It is curled up at my feet and it has been sleeping soundly throughout the entire trip. I would like to ask him what he thinks about our lives. Does he understand the meaning of the term "holiday"? And how does he feel when his (supposed) owner forces him to play with that little dinosaur?
Meanwhile, the mobile phones are ringing, and we continue our journey to the sunny city.