WHITE CROWS

“There’s a couple of white crows in the tree.”

“And what? All crows are white. Have you ever seen a black one?”

“No. But yesterday I saw a girl with black hair!”

“Hair dye.”

“She had blue eyes!”

“Contact lenses.”

“No! Also, her skin wasn’t white, she had a tan!”

“Cream. Just a colouring cream… Stop it already, Bal.”

The boys laughed. For a moment Baltazar was just standing there, looking at them helplessly, then his emotions took over. He ran away just in time to hide his tears.

Baltazar had cried his eyes out in the park where no one could see him. He sat in the tall grass, his brow pressed against a birch tree, its bark as white as his skin.

Tears made him feel better. His mother taught him that boys don’t cry, but he did, often.

Baltazar left the park in the evening, heading towards home. As he walked, he peered greedily into the crowd hoping to see the miracle girl again, the bright, alien beauty among the white-skinned red-eyed albinos. His wish to find her was as strong as if they shared a connection, were relatives or even... soulmates?

That day, at the edge of the park Baltazar made an oath to himself to find the girl. Cheered up by the promise, he came tripping down the overgrown path and joined the flow of people on the street, white-skinned, white-haired, red-eyed people indistinguishable from himself.

(September 4, 2003)