I may be regarded as trite, banal, inconclusive, insubstantial, a thing of nothing, a person of no consequence, a waste of space. This may well be the case, de facto and de jure. In law and in fact. Who am I to disagree with popular opinion? A mere nobody. May I say, in my defence, the jury is out. Is my self esteem to rest on the estimation of others, the many headed multitude, among whom I number myself? As unaware of each other as we are so are they unaware of me, and I of them, individually if not collectively. What else is new?
We are equally unaware of each other’s existence, exist though we do. Or so we maintain. I know I do. Cut me, I bleed. Please don’t. Therefore, I differ not at all from any and everyone else. I am Everyman. Who, me? Yes, you. You too. The term man embraces woman, it may need to be said, again de facto and de jure. Who writes graffiti on a wall, do they sign their name under it? Not usually, nor their address and contact details. Why do they write? To make their presence felt in an apparently uncaring world. The next morning hopefully someone scrubs it off or paints over it. Leaving space ready for the next writer.
Have I written graffiti myself? Once, among the angry voices I posed a question. The next day my writing was scribbled over but not obliterated. As it were, I asked whether we wished Devils to rule. In the language of the day. I was and am a dissenting voice. Someone tried to shut me up, but the message shone through. At least someone spoke. Who? Me.
Now I must go out and buy cigarettes and milk before the shop shuts.
29th March, 2016