Monday, June 6, 2011


The other day in the metro, I was sitting next to a man who was scratching lottery tickets. 
He was obviously a modest man. He had the hands of a working man, I assmued he was a construction worker or something like that. And as he was scratching his tickets, suddenly I understood why people do that - I have always thought lottery was only a set-up, a waste of money - and why it makes sense in their lives. 
This man was probably a hard worker, with a difficult job and a family to support. He was probably the kind of men who are always on time at work, and who work more than they are paid for, early in the morning, late at night, hands durty and rough, sore back and eyes damaged. Yet, everyday, he goes and buys his lottery tickets and hopes for a better life. How good would it be to hit the jackpot! Millions in his account in one day and so many many things to do and buy! Things that have been sitting in the back of his head for years, decades, dreams deferred, dreams untold because he would be laughed at if he told anybody about them, dreams that his condition doesn't allow him to have. 
And as this man was sitting next to me, scratching a ticket, then another one, then putting them back in his pocket - I guess he didn't win anything - I could feel his hope and for a moment I hoped with him, may he win one day, may he always have enough cash to buy his lottery tickets and dream of a better life, may his wife understand him and let him dream, because there is nothing sadder than a life without dreams.

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