Every city has its unknown hero. For some, it’s the person who regularly cleans the dandelions from the garden tiles; for others, it’s the one who always wears sunglasses indoors. My unknown hero, however, is a bit more literary. And a bit more polished.
The shine on his shoes glimmers like a quote from an old love story – just enough to remind you that the world is both comical and endlessly serious. He moves through cafés and libraries with mysterious dignity, and every step of those shiny shoes is like a sign: “Today I will write something that will change someone’s life. Or at least make them laugh.”
Yet nobody knows what he writes. Perhaps it’s diaries of battles with the monsters of everyday life; perhaps love letters to the coffee machine that never smiles back. What matters is that his shoes leave traces on the city streets – and shortly after, on the pages of blank sheets.
The funniest thing is that no one has ever seen him write on a computer. True, he has notebooks, quills, and a mysterious scent of ink and dark chocolate. But he, the unknown warrior of words, keeps walking, and his shoes seem to dance on their own. The polish is like armored skin for his soul – a defense against boredom, mediocrity, and people who think creativity is just a hobby.
And so, while the world moves forward in sneakers and trainers, the unknown writer-warrior strides ahead in his shiny shoes. Certain that somewhere, on some empty sheet, the next great battle awaits. Or at least the next funny paragraph.