Glimpse of something

If someone would ask me now how I got here I’d sit a bit and give it a thought before going ahead and responding: by plane. Not because I’m a slick trickster or because I'm trying to seem somehow detached and minimize the "greatness" of my accomplishments, but frankly I do not know ... I didn’t knew from the very beginning of things so how could I know now? I could make a list of some specific things that happened, discussions that took place and people who have guided me or not towards a finalization but that somehow wouldn’t be sufficient for the explanation which I am required to give.
I remember being contacted by a reporter from a shitty local newspaper, so local that it only covered Curtea de Arges, asking me to "tell my story." I didn’t. I didn’t even intend to do say I wasn’t going to, I just simply didn’t say anything. She then led me to understand that I somehow owed the world an explanation. That’s when shit hit the fan! I do not owe the world a single thing, nor does the world owe me and if, and when I’ll have accounts to settle with the world I will do so in private.
I didn’t refused because I think I’m too good for a local newspaper, or because I have something so phenomenal to say that it’s worth “being shouted “ on a larger scale. On the contrary, I have nothing to say. I have no exceptional story to share with anyone.
But that's how people are in a small town: bored, dull, whipped out, mechanical , and frighteningly repetitive . In a city with 20 000 inhabitants a story like mine is a legend, someone like me is a hero and the world must be aware of it! People have the right to know! ‘Cause people have the right to a glimpse of what they long lost: hope!