You have seen nothing yet (I.P.)

"The real problem is, I can't sleep at night anymore."

The President stares at the trampled grass under his shoes. Then he moves his badly shaven face and smiles to the man next to him on the bench.

    Komfort smiles back like a tramp with a golden tooth.

    They sit together in the City Park. Behind them appear as sombre puffy clouds, the skyscrapers, the office towers,  the hotels and the apartments blocks.

    "I tried already numerous things that should help me to fall asleep. Drinking hot milk with anise seed, counting sheep, reading 'Peace and War', listening to Chopin, imitating the state of mind of a sloth," gives the President away.

    "Imitating the state of mind of a sloth?'

    His Eminence nods humbly.

*  *  *

"Only a few years ago, I had more energy than a young hummingbird," says the President.  "I possessed so many ambitions! I wanted to eradicate poverty, I had great plans to solve the problems of environmental pollution, I dreamed to unite Christians, Jews and Muslims in one religion.  Those days, I collected more ideologies than there are books in the bible. I preached, I wrote, I listen, I convinced. Day and night. Month after Month. If the world was a faulty place to live in, I was the perfect person to revive it. Revive it? Clean it, restore it. Paint it red, blue and yellow.

    "Paint it red, blue and yellow?"

    His Loftiness nods proudly.

*  *  *

"But nowadays? I'm as energized as a dead crow," confesses the President.  "At the end of every evening, at the beginning of the night, they come and start to assemble around my bed. The kids from South Sudan, the women from the slums of Mumbai, the men from the battlefield of Syria, the polar bears from the Arctic. They don't speak. Their silence is covering me like a wet blanket. But I know their questions. Their requests, their demands, their queries. WHY DON'T YOU HELP US?"

     The President buries his oblong face in his rectangular hands.

     "Sometimes I want to scream. I CAN'T HELP YOU! But I don't shout. They only thing I can do is staring at the ceiling as if someone will write an answer on it. But the only so called solutions I got come from my councillors, my ministers. They know exactly what I should do: buy more weapons, use more technology. So we can take action. Faster, bolder. They even promises me they can build drones that can do bombing, that can talk and even make jokes."

     "That can talk and even make jokes?"

     His Haughtiness nods absently.

*  *  *

While at the horizon the clouds gather to celebrate the start of an Indian summer, a boy walks to the President and Komfort. In his soft hands he holds a football.

     'Like to play?"

     The two look surprised but after a little hesitation, they take off their jackets, make a goal of it and start kicking the ball to each other. They have problems to capture the ball from the skilful kid.

    "How long has it been that I enjoy being alive so much!" gasps the president. "Maybe I should invite my ministers to come along to play football."

    'Invite ministers to come along to play football?"

    His sublimity laughs cordially.