Dream #5: The city of infinite patience

by Christos Polydorou

It takes the traveller centuries to get here. Lifetimes braid themselves into translucent necklaces for ladies to hang about their long necks to crystallise the length of the journeys the traveller endured, mostly with stoicism. For what was the point of being annoyed, or anxious? The trees cannot grow faster, and they grow in abundance, here, in The city of infinite patience, which is not a city, actually, but a forest of trees whose kinds range in the thousands, a forest that reaches into forever, which you, as a traveller uncomplaining and a traveller resigned, are given privy to, if only for a moment. The traveller, hopeful, reaches in his or her pocket and brings out a pen, before it transformed into a keyboard, and writes, along the curves of forever:

Pa·tience, which is the word of my life, is a noun, which means the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset. Please be patient, and read that again. Here. Let me copy and paste it, for your convenience: the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset. Without getting angry or upset. Personally, if I achieve this, it would be like gaining a superpower I have been building up to my whole life. I am working on myself to be more patient. I think it will open me up to vistas I squint away from, annoyed, or upset. How to be stoic, in a word.

Patience. A word for life.

Who is the traveller writing to? Who is he or she hoping is reading this? Is there a comprehensive list of the kinds of trees mentioned above?

The traveller eventually leaves The city of infinite patience without ever being able to leave it. Wherever he or she goes, he or she goes with the knowledge that the ego had to be left there for one last time, before anything conclusive or miraculous could actually occur in the life of the traveller.

The traveller continues on his or her journey, somehow emptier, yet all the wiser.

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