Preacher

The old man came into town in silence, bent by the weight of a hiker's backpack and set camp in the remains of the old university. After a couple of days, he emerged with a heavier looking backpack and a tote bag filled with books. Then, he spoke at the town's market.

They said anarchy came with the riots and those were brought by the drought, famine and general collapse of the economy but I know that's a lie we tell ourselves to rationalize our existence. Truth is, a false anarchy started  when everybody else became just a tool for personal gain and success. We told ourselves: money is needed to eat, to dress, to have fun and find happiness; nobody ever thought you cannot eat money. The search for happiness was lost and that of power, wealth and fame substituted it at large. The inner self diluted by the wash of pose. True anarchy would have been deliverance, instead the false anarchy of vacuity and personal delusion took hold with every inch gained by the dream of greed. True anarchy would have been better: in the sense of liberating freedom and inner peace. Instead the vice circle of selfishness reinforced itself and brought us here. There's a way out but... Could you trust me?

He didn't even look around, just got down from the old soapbox, took his stuff and walked away.