Sorrow was sweet. A stage of lethargy that was calm. Bitter, yet calm. Tragedy climbed each night the stoned walls of the castle; creeping into each chamber with the satisfactory gaze of whom has trespassed a forbidden border. Tears were such a delight. They were a magnet to embraces of both sadness and pity. Moonlight was so merciful with everyone: Only shedding light upon those who had something to be sorry about. And mist was graceful. Darkness was playful and beautiful. Everyone was doomed to unhappiness. A forest of distrust and injustice in which absolutely nothing was worth trying, or even resisting. But suddenly, the sun began to rise. The trees that had been standing by for one hundred years had vanished by sunlight. The castle began to absorb that candid light. The chambers inside began trembling. The castle was exhaling dust. All that garbage that had been stored for so many years in the now forgotten attic and hallways. The surroundings were dark, despite the sunlight. But the darkness came from within the castle and all those memories that were secretly kept hidden with the luxury of running through the castle, at midnight, in order to hurt everyone that dared to be awake, and return unnoticed to the trunk, now were splitting into halves and running desperately through the corridors for light began to unravel how they were only made of fake clothes and phony presumptions. 

The castle was a disaster. Evil was disintegrating. All the doors were torn apart so that keys became unnecessary. The truth imposes itself in the majestic throne. All the remaining tears gathered at once. Where was Godot? How could he never arrive? 

Unexpectedly, the castle turned to white. The sunlight revealed the cleanliness that was beneath. The structure was strong. The architect, in fact, had made a marvelous job. Everything was in its place. It was surely the beginning of something interesting. It was a time to forget about subtraction and think about addition. What a change of situation! What would Godot think about all this? The stairs were impeccable. No need for rugs to cover the mess made by the royal animals that continuously forgot to obey the standard guidelines of behavior, for then it appeared they had learned the ways by heart. Had it all been a nightmare and had the sorrow that impeded the daylight to come in just been a mere illusion? Had they all been blind to see the desserts that were awaiting at the table, or had they been a gift from light? 

If they once thought that sorrow was sweet they completely forgot about it, for happiness was even more delicious. Honey was an ambrosia that had no comparison at all. Everything was clean and tidy, for a change. People began to respect the law and boundaries were now more clearly designed to protect the fortress. All the guests were enjoying happily the chocolate cakes and the different types of coffee. So much that nothing of the past remained a priority. Some of them – now overconfident about their new tasks and with an enlightened perspective – remembered they had been waiting for Godot; but they soon discarded that idea and resumed their enjoyable party. “Who is Godot?” One dared to ask; yet none of them could answer that question.