The Other Counter

Let us imagine a city with only one counter. All are in line here the people who renew their passports, the citizens who complain about the neighbor's noise. Including someone who is trying to register their cat to the public speaking contest. The line flows across the streets and weaves through parks until at last, it joins the dreams of that which lay waiting.

Then there is a whisper:" There is the other counter." This other counter never appears in any of the maps indeed, it was not even mentioned in guidebooks. Some say that it is hiding somewhere underneath a bridge; some say that it only appeared during a heavy downpour; and others again say that it is somewhere in the heart of an individual. The most curious thing is, though, that the moment one discovers this other counter, they appear to no longer need to wait in queue for anything. Matters, then, resolve themselves one way or the other-sometimes with a coin drop-and sometimes with the fading memory of childhood.

None of this is nonsense. However, they still know this and remain queuing at the main counter for fear of the other one being one such trick, a doorway into greater chaos. And still, it goes on, relayed as an urban legend: a counter where papers are never at stake, no checking, never judging but accepting; then, it is clear.

Maybe that's the root of it all in the end, this other counter is not here to serve but tease. It hangs that escape in front of us while keeping reminding that we are more committed to the queue than curiosity. Perhaps the other counter is not even really a place, maybe it's a question, why do we continue to wait in line for answers we already have?