It’s night. The night is very dark. In a house far away
The light from a window shines.
I see it, and feel human from head to foot.
It’s funny that the life of the person who lives there, and I don’t know who it is,
Interests me only because of this light from far away.
I’m sure his life is real and he has a face, gestures, family and profession
But right now all I care about is the light coming out of his window.
Even though the light’s there because he lit it,
The light is the immediate reality for me.
I never go beyond immediate reality
Because there’s nothing beyond immediate reality.
If from where I am I only see that light,
Because it’s so far away, where I am there’s only the light.
The man and his family are only real on the other side of the window.
I ‘m over here, far away.
The light goes out.
Why should I care if this guy goes on existing?
Fernando Pessoa
