vagabond life: alone or not really?

kandido is living like a vagabond.
sleeping in some else's houses, living on the charity of some drinks or a dream of woman warm hug.
his life is in his bag: a pc, few undies (founded), 2 pair of trousers, and a warm sweater and one book of poetry. light, easy to move.
moving from one country to another, following some dreams: dreams of love, dreams of work, dreams of finding something that is never there.
something else is there, as beautiful as his disillusioned dream.
moving alone, gotten nourished by stranger's smiles. by strangers kindness.
beautiful life? cursed life?
everything is happy and everything is sad at the same time.
like a sadu or an old fashioned adventurer or like the mariner of the poetry of Neruda that will find only rest in the arms of lady death.
when you take away some sticks that hold your life you see that everything around starts crumble, like a card castle. nothing last.
sometimes everything seems meaningless.
"what am i doing here?"
"where is my love, where are my friend, my family?"
alone we are born and alone we'll die. like everybody. but he doesn't live the masquerade.
he cannot anymore. even if sometimes he would like it. but it will mean die. another kind of death, the life of a living dead.
it's a warrior life. fighting everyday against one's mind. against one's illusions.
trying to avoid traps, running, jumping...
everyday battles, some he looses and some he wins...
the body full of scars...
is there an end for this war?
is there peace somewhere that is not in death?
it's not dramatic:
kandido rises his eyes and see the beautiful house he lives in."look at this house, so beautiful, and i don't even be bother of paying the rent", "look at this woman love. i can have it without see it fading away."
he saw so much that sometimes i get scared. why all this beauty only for me? why i'm so lucky to live through all of this and see all this things... it's too much. it's too much for just me. why i cannot share all this greatness? why being happy alone? happiness is greater in sharing... sharing is love. life should be beautiful for everybody, not just me."
i hope when i'll die some of my smiles will keep on echoing in the world...making more and more people smile."
life like a clown. life like a vagabond. life like a warrior. life like a sadu. life like a gypsy.
"you are not made for marriage" a drunk woman told him in a bar "you are not made for a settled down life? the dragon looks for the heaven alone. alone." maybe. "maybe it's just words, maybe it's just superstitions." maybe.

impatience is a prison, the prison of looking for something in the near future... and don't see the now...
but when you are a vagabond, you live day by day, you live thanks to other, you see how small we are without others... how dependant we are from all the things around us... and you become humble, and thankful....
"cry and you'l cry alone, smile and you'll smile with others"