The Narrative of H. T. Roti

Back in the day I wrote a short story while living in Paris, I felt it was high time. You can read it here.

Stare into the eye of the crack in civilization. Photo by Italian photographer Olivo Barbieri.
Stare the crack of civilization right in the eye. Photo by Italian photographer Olivo Barbieri.

During one of my roaming trips through Europe I stumbled into a pick up football game. I joined in with the local french kids and started playing. At some point I remember playing the perfect pass, a beautiful curved ball in front of the running attacker that had only to slide into the goal. A thing of beauty.

While I was still savouring the achievement, marveled at its beauty, I looked around. Absolute disdain, obliviousness. No one had even noticed that moment of sporting poetics. I couldn’t believe it. And that thing stuck with me.

Later I went on to write a dystopian story of how a sensitive, creative soul feels absolutely alone when there isn’t anyone around that shares any of his aesthetic sensibility.

The name takes from the brilliant and foreboding “Nathan Barley”, a clairvoyant tale of how the idiots are winning.

Read The Narrative of H. T. Roti here

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