jesse

It’s Monday morning and everyone is going somewhere. Students make their way across the university courtyard. A little boy stares at his reflection in a puddle as his mother calls for him to catch up. Trams, buses, cars, and bikes carry people into the start of the week. At this hour, the world doesn’t seem keen on dancing with me.

The red-light district is quiet except for two men walking towards me in the distance. Their movements appear hurried and sluggish at the same time.

“Hey!”; surprised, both men stop in their tracks and size me up. At first they try and toy with me, though the posturing doesn’t last. Jesse asks me if I have any life experience. I share a few of my secrets – perhaps as collateral – and he nods. Before long, Jesse gives the camera his undivided attention and the other gentlemen offers to assist me with the light.

I learn that they are on their way to a brothel to see one of their favorite sex workers. Jesse’s grandfather was an SS officer and his grandmother a gypsy. They fell in love and moved to Switzerland after the war. Jesse has been to prison, survived cancer, and was stationed in Afghanistan with NATO for several years. He lets me know that the only reason he’s doing this for me is that it’s important to give young people a chance. We talk about Jesus, war, sex, and the afterlife. He seems to know a fair bit of history and leaves me with a final thought: Many have tried to unify and rule the world, but none will ever succeed. Our differences are too powerful.

[5] Monday, May 17, 2017