Alarm! No! Alert! No! Alert! No! Sounds like the phone and I answer like I didn’t sleep at all, because maybe I wasn’t. I get dressed in a hurry with optimism, besides clothes that seem useless compared to what I have in my heart and mind. It is early in the morning, too morning and it does not matter, the effort is almost nonexistent. Walk to the so-called „justice”.
Hard road passes just like the night before Christmas gift, on childhood. I’m not at all surprised that I arrive earlier and the fresh sunshine makes me smile. I walk into the building and marveled not hear the roar of justice, not even a whisper. Not a good sign. Through security and metal detector (God how I want to be a lie detector), although daily, people are killing the justice; a kind of sport. My optimism decreases, remain without a shirt, even if I pull my sleeves to hide the ink on his arms, to be properly dressed. Ironically optimism clothes are stripped of by everything that you see around. Perhaps many people I see in black cloaks, are empty inside!?
Courtroom, a small studio with the door blocked by people who seem to have no state, they do not know whether to come or not. I think there is hope, our essence still feels what’s right and what’s wrong. A small room, full eye without the slightest order. Patch files tied up with a shredded rope and not safe, enlightened me and I explain this picture of justice. A bitter indispensable need hanging by a thread.
Files missing, pointless fees, court data spoken by a powerless voice surrounding by noise, desperate people defeated by legal terms and more injustice. The slightest comfort to anyone, be it a judge or a man with a record tied with string. It makes me sick. My stomach turn. I’m tired, I want to go out and kiss my girlfriend, family and charge me with smiles.
PS: Justice in addition to being blind is lame, what from what I see is a disability benefit.
Romania is a country indecisive, undecided people, where nothing is concrete.