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Young days of walks and talks, our, what I saw (and still see) as intellectual discussions of philosophy and anarchy, communism, to veganism or animal rights. He was great. I always enjoyed having a person whom I could talk to and mention the word “proletarian’s” in a sentence without having to explain what they were. He would wait for me after school on the side walkway out of the building. He was always there, ready for our walk and I was always awaiting for what new subject we would discuss on our way.
A year went by and this was the period where the schools were out. The past days where we would get together to plan our next revolution; our new movement of rebellion in front of the other students obsessed with their hip-hop and shitty rock, a movement of progressive thought was over. He got admitted into a bright- brilliant youth journalism program and I lived up my summer with little thrills, the types with two- or three close friends who would drive around and go on road trips and shows. I got to discuss my ideas, but no one ever agreed, and few even understood. I know now that I probably will never find another person with the same sense of genuine understanding who would also use those sharp outstanding words that always impressed me and brought a smile to my face ( even though he was always showing his opposition ).
It was a beautiful relationship, a beautiful friendship but those both hoped on a boat and sailed south, well until today. I could almost swear that about three days ago I could see the ships sailing back to shore when I would look at the bright sky. (This was the place that also happens to be where my head always is found. ) But I would shrug it off and forget. I never thought much of it.
Teacher recently decided to stick the senior (news paper) editors with partners so that they would be prepared to take on the job the following year. She wanted someone in the group to show them the ropes. Who was I assigned to teach? The one whom I could always understand, the one who introduced me to Absurdism and told me that as much as he would love to accompany me to the semi-local activism groups he could not because it defied his anarchist ideals.
I taught him the ropes but I found it hard to edit the bland and boring “Where have the soldiers gone?” article (my apologies to the writer) because we talked much of what we had been up to. He asked what had happened and why we drifted apart, but I did not come up with an answer, we did, however agree that much miscommunication occurred between us because we always debated but those were some beautiful times indeed. He told me at one point “You did not know that? I always saw you as miles ahead of me.” I wanted to say ‘Really? I always saw you as such.’ But I ended up really saying “You taught me much but hey, who’s to say I am not miles ahead?” Of course in giggles. Perhaps next meeting I shall mention it.

We walked home like old times and talked briefly about life in some odd sense and created an alibi if in any incident were we to get hit by a car and not be in the crosswalk. I crossed the street with him (walking within those white lines), bid him a good day... until next time.