SIX

This may sound arrogant but I’m telling it as it happened. At this point I was signing my latest book in Eleftheroudakis bookstore in Athens. with me was the bookstore's PR, Giannis, a young man but not that young, well dressed in a dark suit, neatly combed hair. I do not know why I remember all these details about him, maybe because his reaction later on didn’t correspond to his clean cut appearance, which did not fit well with a person working in a bookstore but rather he could be a banker, or an executive large company. How he was turned out did not make him attractive to me.

Going back to what happened. After signing several copies, with several people still in the queue, it was the turn of a young man who looked like a student. He brought with him a copy of the book, like all those waiting in the queue but I quickly realised that he hadn’t just bought it, because although in good condition, you could tell it had been read, and the pages were separated and the spine had those stretch marks that indicate that the book has been opened at several stages, and for a long time. Perhaps it had been read more than once. For me it wasn’t important that this guy didn’t buy the book there to be signed by me, to me that’s stupid, although I understand why they do it. But I was not the only one who noticed this. Giannis, this stuffy PR also noticed it and before I could pick up the book to sign, he said coldly: "Sorry, but store policy says that the books to be signed by the author have to be purchased in store. If you kindly go to the till and buy a new copy ... ". There was no protest from the boy, at least in words. But his face said it all; it was a mixed expression, the majority of which consisted of disappointment (immediately making me rebel) along with some anger, incomprehension and thousands of other thoughts reflected in his face that I could not decipher, but I understood them clearly. So I took his book, excused myself, grabbed Giannis by his arm and took him to the side. "I understand what your job is and I have no objection. The rules are made to be followed by everybody, because if not it would be unfair to other customers. But the rules also have exceptions and this is one of them. A bookstore is a company but also a factory of emotions, emotions that the books you sell express. Look at this person and tell me you see. I see it clearly. " Giannis smiled, while keeping all the time his professional composure, and nodded. Behaving very professionally, he went to the guy who was still waiting in front of the table and apologized, trying not to speak very loudly so the queue didn’t hear, but rotoundly and even sincerely: "Please accept my apologies and on behalf of the store. And accept this gift card for buying something in future. " He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a 100 euros card. "No, I do not accept alms, I just came here to get my book signed." No, no, the pride arose, the folly that spoils everything. Maybe this guy could be excused because of his youth, and feelings, like anything else, need experience and experience needs time. Although many of us don’t learn how to control these feelings in spite of the experience we could have acquired. Moreover, many people believe that pride is an essential part of humans and even need to be exercised. For me, it's a waste of time that prevents relationships being as easy and fluid as they could be. Pride, in small doses and only very rarely. So I could not restrain myself from speaking again, this time to the offended young guy. "You know how hard it is nowadays to find an apology? Asking for forgiveness is something that makes us better, enriches those who practice it. But if it's hard to ask for forgiveness when you think you were wrong, it’s harder to accept the apology and the reparation. Pride often stands between the person apologizing and the recipient, canceling every good intention. Be smart too and accept the apology and the gift, not as charity but as fair compensation for damages. I think you will feel better and it will be fair to who is apologising. " Two intense seconds elapsed between the my last word and the advance of the hand that accepted the card. I happily signed the book, the guy left and Giannis relaxed a little while maintaining his serious composure.

ONE

Piety is a word little understood by some and abused by many, but complicated. And like many other words today, it sounds old. it is replaced by others that feel closer, that we believe more modern. Such as solidarity, that is modern and fashionable. It's perfect. But piety sounds close to religion and as with other words close to religion, seems outdated (many other things of religion are outdated). Take the fight between morality and ethics. But I like the word piety and some of its synonyms: compassion and pity. People don't like these words, and they are hidden again and again behind solidarity. Although it is the same. The fact is that I like piety more because it is closer to the heart, more deeply buried in our genes. Piety cannot be rationalised as solidarity is. You feel pity or don’t, it is not just or unjust, as solidarity is. I have nothing against solidarity, or what it represents, but it seems emptier, although the feelings of those who practice it are not.

But, why am I talking so much of this word? its meanings and synonyms? why are you reading something that seems closer to a language lesson? We are talking about piety because this is a story about a man who feels piety, a story about humans. Piety is what this person felt and piety is what makes us human. Together with speech. Piety and pity and sympathy and, of course, solidarity. Piety and pity for other people, for everyone, piety that makes him human. So here you have more than half of the story. Now, we need to discover the still substantial minority; which produces piety, who is that man and what happens to him, how his story begins and how it ends, if it ends at all. And yes, this is a good time to stop reading this book, because if anyone asks what the story is about, you will be right to say its about piety. True and legitimate. We all know what loads of books are about and we have not read them. We talk about them, their characters, we discuss the story, even about how it ends, but we have not read them. Don Quixote, the Bible, the Constitution, and many others. But we have not read them. No, this book is not a Don Quixote, I wish (by the way I have read neither the Bible nor the Constitution nor Don Quixote) but I can talk about them, even with some kind of knowledge.

Piety again. Piety makes us human, it doesn't lessen us. Piety is not just the alms given at the entrance of church or in any street, although they are too. Piety is feeling pity for the suffering of others. And I know that this feeling nowadays it doesn't sound great. Feeling pity for someone else. But I can assure you, it is one of the feelings that make us human. We feel piety or pity when we see someone suffering, even if that person is not close to us. We feel piety of course when we see someone lying in the street asking for money, although for many of us it will pass through our heads that "he could be working." Sure, maybe he could, but somewhere inside us we feel piety for that person, if we believe that he is suffering. We feel piety for those who are hungry, for those who are suffering because of war or natural disasters, for someone we know who is suffering because someone they love has died, and we even feel piety for ourselves, even if in all these cases we do nothing, wanting to or not. That doesn't matter now, the important thing is we feel something and that something is the piety. Bravo for the piety.

This is the story of a man who feels piety and feels he is human. And that's how the story goes, from start to... well, wherever it goes.

UNO

Piedad es una palabra poco comprendida por unos y maltratada por muchos, complicada eso si. Y como muchas otras palabras, hoy en día, suena a vieja. Por lo que se reemplazada por otras que sentimos más cercanas, que creemos más modernas. Como solidaridad, que es moderna y está de moda. Es perfecta. Y es que piedad nos suena cercana a las cosas de la religión y como otras palabras cercanas a la religión, nos parece trasnochada (otras muchas cosas de la religión están trasnochadas). Como las peleas entre moral y ética. Pero a mi me gusta la palabra piedad y algunos de sus sinónimos: conmiseración y lástima. Estas palabras tampoco gustan mucho, y son escondidas una y otra vez tras solidaridad. Aunque sea lo mismo. Y es que a mi me gusta más piedad porque está más cercana al corazón, más profundamente hundida en nuestros genes. La piedad no puede ser racionalizada cosa que la solidaridad si. Se siente piedad o no, no es justa o injusta, como lo es la solidaridad. No tengo nada en contra de solidaridad y menos aún lo que representa, pero me parece más vacía, aunque no estén vacíos los sentimientos de los que la practican.

¿Pero por que estoy hablando tanto de esta palabra, de sus significados y sinónimos, porque estáis leyendo algo que parece más cercano a una clase de lingüística? Hablamos de la piedad porque de esto trata toda esta historia, una historia sobre un hombre que siente piedad, una historia sobre el ser humano. Piedad es lo que sentía esta persona y piedad es lo que nos hace humanos. Junto al habla. Piedad y lastima y conmiseración y, claro está, solidaridad. Piedad y lastima por los demás, pero por todos los demás, piedad que le hace humano. Aquí tenéis más de la mitad de la historia. Ahora, falta por descubrir ese otra casi mitad, que produce piedad, quién es ese hombre y que le ocurre, como empieza su historia y como acaba, si acaba. Y sí, este es un buen momento para dejar de leer este libro, porque si alguien os pregunta de qué va, estaréis en lo cierto en decir: de la piedad. Cierto y legítimo. Todos sabemos de qué van un montón de libros y no los hemos leído. Hablamos de ellos, de sus personajes, discutimos sobre la historia, incluso sobre el final, pero no los hemos leído. Don Quijote, La Biblia, La Constitución, y tantos otros. Pero no los hemos leído. No, este libro no es un Don Quijote, más quisiera yo, que por cierto no he leído ni la Biblia, ni la constitución y ni el Quijote, pero puedo hablar de ellos, incluso con cierto conocimiento.

Piedad de nuevo. La piedad nos hace humanos, no nos rebaja. Piedad no es sólo la limosnas que se dan a la entrada de una iglesia o en cualquier calle, aunque también lo sea. Piedad es sentir lástima por el sufrimiento del otro. Y ya se que esto, hoy en día, no suena muy bien. Sentir lástima por otra persona. Pero, os aseguro, es un de los sentimientos que nos hacen más humanos. Sentimos piedad o lástima cuando vemos sufrimiento, incluso si no es cercano a nosotros. Sentimos piedad, claro está, cuando vemos a alguien tirado en la calle pidiendo limosna, aunque a muchos se nos pase por la cabeza lo de “podría estar trabajando”. Claro, quizás podría, pero en algún rinconcito sentimos lástima por esa persona, si creemos que está sufriendo. Sentimos piedad por los que pasan hambre, por los que sufren por las guerras o los desastres naturales, por algún conocido al que se le ha muerto alguien querido y hasta sentimos lástima por nosotros mismos, aunque en ninguno de estos casos hagamos nada, queramos o no. No importa ahora eso, lo importante es que sentimos algo, y ese algo es la piedad. Bravo por ella.

Esta es la historia de un hombre que siente piedad y que se siente humano. Y así es como transcurre esta historia, desde el principio hasta..bueno, hasta donde sea.