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The Man With No History

No one knows who he is.
He appeared, just like that, this morning in my quaint little town. Brought with him nothing.
With his tattered clothes and shaggy beard, he would go around the town square, bothering people, screaming over and over: “Help me! I’m trapped! Get me out of here!”

No one even bothered to look at this novel annoyance. That’s just the way it is in this town.
All crackpots go unnoticed. Maybe then they’ll just fade away.

No one knows who he is.
He appeared, just like that, this morning in my quaint little town. Had nothing with him, but the clothes on his back and the gray beard in his face. God, he looked old.
He just kept to himself, sobbing all the time. He looked so pitiful.

No one even bothered to look at him. That’s just the way it is in this town.
If you don’t notice them, maybe they’ll just go away.

I don’t get him, though. He’s just been here one day, and he certainly isn’t confined. But I heard him say:
“Help me. Please”
“I’m trapped…”

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