|140·INT019·080315 · Under the ground ©2008|
Now, almost elderly, they only had each other and it seemed they did not need anything else.
They had had three children who had filled them with happiness, at least for a long time, they believed to remember.
Now they had a visit.
Eduardo seemed to be the most normal one. He had left the house quite soon. He had married a stewardess. They travelled a lot. They did not know where he was living. They occasionally received a postcard with a strange address which they did not understand. They believed to remember their son had studied something of a very high level. They did not live in Spain. They came quite recently, didn’t they? They said to themselves. Of course. And this “of course” was slightly obvious.
The visit was punctual. It had appeared, without a previous warning, a spring morning. Maybe it was that Thursday when the people from the Social Assistance brought us the little device with the button to press in case something happens to us, they said. But the important thing is that it was punctual.
Magdalena, did not give any signs of life. It was said she was abroad. People who think badly said she was working in a cabaret and there were some others who thought even worse.
Magdalena sent a check to the bank very now and then. But they did not realize it.
They were not interested in television since a long time ago. They said it was loaded by the demon. A curious expression, anyone else would say the devil. But they had the opinion that the demon walks freely. If they turned on the radio was, particularly, to be accompanied by the background noise. They were not interested in news either. Some adverts attracted their attention if they had catchy music.
Anselmo was the younger child. They were greatly upset when he told them he was a homosexual. As years went on their grief had been mitigated. The loss of their memory had helped them a lot. When he arrived home with his new male couple, they received him nicely and congratulated him for having so many friends.
But the visit was punctual. Constant. And it was the joy of this nice elderly couple. It did not stay for a long time, but the time it stayed…
It was the fresh air in the morning.
They shared their food. And they played to take it out one another. It was a perfect loving triangle.
When the autumn was about to finish, the days became more unpleasant. And winter was near.
At present, the nice elderly couple, in their more lucid moments started to be afraid about Ramón, what it could happen if Ramón did not come back anymore.
They were afraid that Ramón, the sparrow, the little sparrow could not survive the harsh winter that it was supposed to come.
And if they had had the television set connected, the news would have confirmed them that the hardest winter of the last 12 years was coming.
|583b·INT037·130925 · La visita ©2007 |
707'070609-Granada-1810-Ramón el gorrión-w ©2007
|549b·INT036·130119 · Alka, the one from the market ©2013 |
712120613-018-Croacia-Alka, la del mercado-w ©2012
Now sitting on the sharp point of a small cape, tied to its rocks with his feet seeming to be molten with that sixty million year limestone, he was watching his lighthouses, one of them out of the corner of his eye on his left. Another one, in front of him, 1,079 nautical miles far away and the farthest one visible for 6, 479 nautical miles. He preferred to talk in miles, though he had always moved in kilometers in land.
|531b·INT034·121028 · Sitting watching lighthouses ©2012 |
402110418-Santander-Isla de Mouro-130-w ©2011
tiempos de incertidumbre
naufragios cada día
los carroñeros no dejan de sobrevolar tragedias
con los despojos construyen fortunas
|501·INT034·120214 · Carroñeros ©2012 |
··· Spanish version ···
|478b·INT033·111020 · Purple princess ©2011|
711110630-162-Francia-Prats de Mollo-Purple Princess-w ©2011
|As dez e dez • INT032/100903 © |
070928-P1030837-El hombre de las diez y diez ©
Lumix DMC-TZ5 - f/4.2 - 1/80 seg - 48 mm* - ISO 100
en castellano lo encontrarás aquí: Cristal Rasgado: Las diez y diez
She is patiently waiting for the arrival of a taxi. I am talking to her. She is telling it to me. Apparently, all the girls waiting for a taxi tell stories.
Occasionally, she averts her eyes, without losing attention, to have some snack to get her strength back. She has been waiting for many days. She tells me exactly, without looking up in any diary, the hours she has spent there sitting on that small square from which all the visitors that New York devours, take photographs to the flatiron Building. She tells me it is “La Plancha”, that’s the way other people call it.
I say nothing. I don’t want to discourage her since I have the certainty, sorry, I would say almost the certainty that her wait will be eternal. I mean, her wait for a blue taxi.
I don’t need to make her many questions. She is talking in a soft voice about the taxi. It has to be a blue one, she is not wearing yellow clothes for that special occasion in vain.
I hint to her that New York is full of white limousines. She moves her hands disdainfully but delicately in an eloquent gesture. I also talk to her about black limousines, fewer than white ones; but there are still quite a few. However, she keeps insisting. Blue is the colour which suits her best. It suits her, as if she were her clothing.
I go closer to a street stall and bring her a passion fruit juice. It’s hot. 76ºF and humidity is high. She asks me if there weren’t orange or peach juices. Better an orange one.
While I am coming back with the juice, now an orange one, hundreds of taxis pass by in every direction. I know I won’t see any blue one… but I stare at them as if my happiness would depend on it.
Fast taxis dye the Fifth Avenue with minimal yellow shooting stars.
Fast pedestrians leave the tracks of their existence in the air.
Trees tied to the noise mistake their shades for a false sky.
And a false sea climbs the skyscrapers.
And hurriedly, a warm tree wants to come to a square,
where a girl dressed in yellow, was waiting for a taxi,
to tell her the secret everybody conceals from her.
Blue doesn’t exist. It doesn’t exist in movement.
:::Post 293 INT 031 - 090526 - The blue taxi girl
:::photo 1: 090513-C1556 - La chica del taxi azul - f/3.5 - 1/400 seg - 420*mm
:::photo 2: 090515-C1628 - Prisas - f/2.7 - 1/4 seg - 36*mm
:::photo 3: 090509 -P1020565 - Arbol veloz - f/3.3 - 1/60 seg - 30*mm
:::link: Spanish version: Cristal Rasgado - La chica del taxi azul