We had another lucky encounter just outside the towering cathedral on the eastern side of Silver City (Siberstadt). Graciously carrying along the gait of a weathered pilgrim, time-polished eyes, and wrinkled wisdom, he spared time to share with me some tips on the significance of history.
“I adore this city, the shiny faces and smiles decorating it as summer approaches,” I said.
“Don’t trust people without scars. Either they have not braved the storms and rugged paths long enough to earn trust as dependable generals, or they hide behind masks — ashamed of the very experiences that should have distinguished them from the crowd,” he countered my statement.
After some discussion not exceeding five minutes, we reached a unifying conclusion. 𝗛𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁; 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗹. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗮 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀; 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀—𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹-𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀. Any mask will wash away rapidly in the shower.
Next time I’m given a chance to interview and select candidates for a demanding assignment, I’ll be keen to notice the scars they have healed from, scars they don’t mask but lay bare as a badge of triumph over trying terrains and tribulations.