Was the light reflecting through the windows coming from the sun, or was it an enigma?
Its origin in a body that maintained immense light inside...
Or the dark darkness, capable of swallowing every desire and voice.
Various forms in an eternal formula, the beginning of life; tricolor, phosphorescent or single luminance.
An extensive theory that had a sense of belonging in the darkness, being swallowed up through desire and voice.
"Pain". One of the sick men proclaimed, when questioned by one of the qualified servants of the church.
His condition was not unique to his state, as it was a widespread shared ailment.
Not all men were literate and wise, so they could not correctly explain their condition beyond a superficial observation.
Furthermore, the main cause of this generalized nature was the state of the patients themselves.
And those who had already undergone the treatment, recovered with great weakness, prostrate; without any possibility of clarifying the situation.
"Go and leave the buckets there, honored Federick. I will retire for the moment... Don't worry about anything other than your safety." Sap said, giving his final words of concern and warning.
"It's a pleasure to have met you, elder Sap. Thank you for your advice and of course I will take care of my safety above all." Federick responded with one last familiarity.
Thus, with the conversation over, Federick retired to leave the buckets where he had previously agreed.
Which allowed him to observe a closer situation of the sick, whom he had previously accompanied.
Like his former traveling companions, there were also other strangers whom he had never seen.
Observation that had allowed him to clarify several points, which attributed to the total failure of "ecclesiastical" efforts.
Many patients camped and waited for free services, side by side, isolated from those providing the services.
The eternal failure of bureaucracy, added to faith...
"Since Argentina, I had not seen a similar situation." Federick commented to no one, drowning in a silent laugh.
But his efforts did not end there; he approached those who were seriously suffering, with complete confidence and familiarity.
It was when he could see reality clearly; beyond the ailments exposed to the open air: dehydration, dirty clothes and devout pain.
"I suppose it's hopeless..." Federick said in a whisper; a muffled cry of helplessness or... Indifference.
One of the men lay motionless on the cold, damp ground, despite being illuminated by the sun's rays; with the body racked by pain and the mind clouded by confusion. His mind had been poisoned, with no culprit beyond a deficiency of knowledge.
He had been contaminated, he was contaminated, contaminated with deadly toxins that had seeped into his soul, which now ran freely through his morals like a deadly snake.
As he lay there, unable to move or speak, the man's thoughts turned to the latest events he had experienced.
He led an ordinary life, with no warnings to consider. His only possessions were his small livestock, orchard, and clear conscience.
He did not even have a well capable of extracting drinking water, having to receive special assistance from officials. An excuse that will last in his mind, to be able to drink uncontrollably in countless taverns, without causing anger in his beloved wife.
The man's mind wandered, his thoughts jumping from one memory to another as he tried to understand what had happened. Between slight spasms, a smile appeared on his face.
Pale face like that of a corpse.
Face that Federick observed in poetic silence.
But his sick mind didn't keep him focused, wired to a reality; rambling like a brave tightrope walker on a light rope.
Because further away the valuable volunteers gathered for community service. Wary of the disease, they distanced themselves physically and materially...
Rolled up their sleeves and smiling, they shared anecdotes and stories, distancing themselves from the reality that surrounded them.
Many people cared for him, with all his needs covered, basic or dispensable.
But like any objective reality, there were those who persisted with uncomfortable expressions influenced by the present environment.
'I suppose that even evil evils we are born to proclaim in the face of injustice; after all, we're not so different.' Federick thought melancholy, with his fists clenched at the memories he had wandered about having forgotten.
Thoughts that found origin from shame, love and melancholy.
Tragedy, comedy and fiction.
'I guess this world doesn't have enough room for just one Federick... Two, three, six more likely. Was it like that?' He thought non-stop, while his steps did not stop in the direction of those in charge.
'Courage as a taurus... I don't know what it means; but, past trodden, they said'. Federick thought with a smile, being in the presence of the blessed.
"How are you, ecclesiastical ministry?"