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Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta Street. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta Street. Mostrar todas las entradas

sábado, enero 26, 2013

Bad company

A girl walks into a restaurant. .

It was her second try that week.
She takes the same road, she had the same walking style, the same cloths, the air is almost similar. Everything feels the same, but this time she's determined to eat at the place no matter how many people she finds there, no matter how many crying babies unattended by their "never meant to be moms in the first place" she comes across with. She will eat at that place.
"The afternoon is perfect", she thinks. "Even if people are killing each other, even if there's a war in our county and nobody knows it or just decided to fool themselves, almost keeping their eyes wide shot: you see what you want, therefore, reality is never what you though it would be. Who cares, the day is beautiful"
Nothing new, nothing strange, the road is clear, calm.. She keeps walking, crosses side to side the street on an attempt to find a narrative on the city and there it is, a clue: a beautiful wall with a claustrophobic sentence written on it: "So, I love you. And?"
"Who could have written such an infamous deal?", she asks.
According to the Wall, the only witness, the name belongs to a girl, a girl named Rose.
"Rose. . Whoever the hell she is, the girl's got some balls to say that out loud"
The girl continues walking and thinks that she herself has revisited from time to time such a sentence. Nothing to be ashamed of.
"The Wall is overreacting", she thinks. "The Wall should just get use to it".
She continues walking, yet nothing unexpected seems to await her, except she expects to eat at the restaurant. It's a quarter to five and she's got nothing but a banana and a strawberry milkshake in her system. What a breakfast! Her stomach walks empty and cursing heaven with little care someone might hear them. She walks and cares very little about that crying stomach.
"That's why I have no babies", she thought. "Shut up and put yourself together"
She's three blocks away from the restaurant, close enough to smell the food and there she is, now talking on the street to a police officer and looking at the scenario: the policemen blocked a car with their trucks, so they could check on the three men who were on it. The three men are already standing outside the vehicle and talking face to face with two of the officers. They are just drunk men, oh!, but they look dangerous, indeed.
" Good afternoon, officer", said the girl when he stopped her from crossing the street.
"Ma'am, please wait for your green light so you can continue"
"Oh boy!"
"Is everything ok, Ma'm?"
"May I be honest with you, officer?"
"Yes, ma'am"
"I feel insecure here"
"Ma'am?"
"No means to offend you officer.. It's not you, but rather your uniform and the institution you represent".
The policeman looked straight into the girl's eyes for a minute and smiled at her candidly while nodding his head.
"You may continue, ma'am. Have a nice day. And.."
"No, don't say it, officer" she smiled. "Thank you"
The girl continued and wonder what does "everything's ok" mean?
That is a powerful sentence for someone with an empty stomach that seems to have life on its own by the time. She must've been shocked by those policemen, the trucks and the three drunks, because her stomach made no noise while she conversed with the candid officer.
"And there it is, at last", she said.
The restaurant stands marvellously across the street. But she takes another second to look at the sky, to smile at the clouds, she takes her time until someone shouted:
"Hey you! Wanna be my love?"
She smiles, looks at the boy in he car waving his hand, she waves her hand back. Finally, crosses the street, enters the restaurant, orders something to eat, pays the lady in front of the cash machine, then goes to the other side of the restaurant looking for the restrooms, goes into the restrooms, takes one moment to think on that feeling she had that too many people was looking at her, goes out the restrooms, takes a table.
Yes, maybe two, three women smiled at her, and she smiled back; a couple of men siting here and there next to their wives looked at her and turned their faces away. Seems like something is wrong, but she continues smiling at whom ever attempts to look at her. She finally sits and waits for her order to be delivered at the table when a family: young couple, a kid and the grandma, walk on the girl's direction, just to the exit, all staring at her and she shyly smiles. The grandma walks close to the girl, stops in front of her and takes her face close enough to the girl's face, almost like trying to tell her a secret and said:
"Better alone than poorly accompanied, isn't it?"
"You've just made my day even better, Ma'am", the girl smiled.
"Have a good life, my dear. Have a good life", the old lady nodded her head and leaved the restaurant.

sábado, diciembre 08, 2012

¿Quién es ese hombre?

Foto: Lucy Originales

Voy caminando. Está allí tocando su guitarra. ¿Quién es ese hombre que no tengo en mi memoria? ¿Por qué me sonríe? ¿Si está sonriéndome, o sonríe a mi cámara? Es a mí, debe ser a mí porque estoy sonrojándome. Camino a prisa para que no vea que me he sonrojado, pronto saldrá de mi visión. Eso quiere decir que ¿lo perderé? No, calma, sólo voy a unas "cuadras" arriba y regreso. Y ¿si lo pierdo?, ¿si se mueve?, ¿si me abandona? Le he dado la espalda... Y ¿si llega otra y le toma una, o dos o tres fotos? No, no puedo perderlo. Ese hombre pertenecerá a mi memoria. A esta distancia, con este lente, sí, todavía lo alcanzo... Volteo. Ok, aquí estoy, rápido: encuadra, enfoca, muévete y... "click" Voltea, mírame, vamos, ¡mírame!, y... "click". Listo, ya puedo seguir. Le agradeceré en un rato. Regreso. Ahí está todavía. Pero qué extraño hombre. "Don't run away from love", me mira y canta. Suelto una carcajada. "No soy yo quien huye del amor", le digo. Sonrío y envío un beso.

lunes, enero 31, 2011

A one time...

After a while and a couple of months of immediate and social encounters secretly performing our hard core wishes within a dream, we have finally developed our desire; it was quick, but enough for a second and a third encounter. Each time was perfect, but that first time was surreal: the kisses were given (mouth, neck, mouth-neck-chest and a bite); the touches were well played (arm, cheeck, arm-hips, hips-down); the mood was set; jeans off, panties wet and the hard fusil on screen...


Silence, sweet silence heard, eyes shot and a score: zero-one for the two sweaty pairs of legs. Contractions and a new score: zero-two... I'm an easy gal. 

There, lays a wife on the street (or another girlfriend hooked by the "swear I love you"). The wife of that "him", the desired and taken man for the night by another woman: me. The street and the woman walking wonder how well and perfect is he for children and home sweet home

Don’t judge me… don’t. I might have just saved your marriage, or your so called relationship. Every man is perfect for a night, flesh we are and we all must be eaten. But the woman on the street once loved, once lover of that man taken by another woman for the night, has never understood this is just pure sex, a one time. Or two... maybe three.