At The Traffic Light
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At the Traffic Light

And any given day is also the very first sigh of life.

Right there, in those millionths of seconds and a few thousands of minutes vehement longings of a life are compressed.

I will not say of desires 'cause they live in the dreams... It will be better, and even more than better, to let the alchemist of words to solve this issue.

I dwell, and I think I'll always do, between the latitudes of predictability.

Sleep well; and sometimes a smile escapes from my lips when I imagine my name radiating a glimmering shine from its humble location within the list...I got a place, got a situation here!

I suppressed some unreason and I've raised my voice, too.

My trails have been elucidated such a long time ago; and perhaps my cheeks grow red if you consider those paths more than known. But I know that I won't be sentenced to the Gemonias of derison.

Nor in the shadows and certaintly not in the limelights, I make my way through the experiences.

Breathing memories with each walk, which are piled by every step I take in a place I rarely visit.

The conscience is quiet and flesh's calm: The controversies, contained; and sorrows... I dont't know, as if the were lost in somewhere of heart.

And thus I went out to the day. With the sidewalks still wet by the kisses of the night and the mysterious calmness of its reign besieged by the diffuse glow of dawn...

An old woman there, two workers nearer I. The student by my side and the pretty young lady two little steps right behind.

In my silence, -I intended to be understanding of the harmonious anger around me- I looked for the novelty's freshness of the day on an invisible horizon.

There were clouds that closed the skies.

I told myself that I had to bear the sordid gestures of their morning traits as we were waiting the fifty seconds of the green traffic light to change.

The prospect of that eternity, as if it had turned on a desperate survival instict, made me stay away from the stinky breath expelled by the student next to me and whose yawns were pauseless.

How many seconds it took me to make a decision as to get close to the old woman, the two workers or the pretty young lady, is question whose reply will never have the certainty as one of its features.

Right in the middle of that crawd, with dissimulation my feet barely slid a few milimeters backwards..., to the pretty young lady.

I did not dare to look at her. I suspected an overwhelming beauty...

I squeezed the handle of my attache. I intended to perform I don't know what sort of habituallity posture. I pretended to be indignant at the time the green traffic light "stole" to the world the crucial importance of my presence.

I made several grimaces with my face and some spasdmodic movements with my body. I deemed it was enough in order to emphasize the urgency of my immediate steps.

There was not any pleasure in standing there... For God's sake!

A traffic jam prolonged that inopportune indisposition beyond any decorous tolerance.

One of the workers looked at me with an emphatic vehemence... Oh, yes, I'm well aware of that. I don't know, he expected me to say something about it.

To make matters worse the old woman turned and stared at me as if she was looking for what I did not have at all.

The pretty young lady at my right smiled somewhat bewildered... Yeah, she was so cute! I think she needed someone to indicate the way.

The studend was still yawing and his stinky breath odors spreading all over.

I don't know if any of them followed my lead when I ventured out to cross the avenue among the cars... My steps were methodical, aware, no room for any doubt.

The sun came out and defeated the clouds which retreated to others ominous horizons.

From the distance I saw that at the next corner there was a lot of people waiting for the traffic light to change.

If I hurried just a little bit, this time the green light would not catch me again.


Street Talk

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