while holding the beer with my hands, watch the bustle of the street and the world seems to stop. This new cafe, which was once a theater, still retains its scenery and its red curtain patched, it is frequented by many people and you can find in their chairs a comfortable refuge to await the end of the world.
look through the glass. I smile because I can not even pierce the cries of the lottery vendor, who in the door and evening after evening, sure to bring the winning ticket. Nor hear the violinist, who on the other side, with his gloves mended and dilapidated and tune an instrument, is determined to destroy the Pachelbel Canon. Inside the room
everything seems at peace, lost balance is restored and none of the other customers unhappy faces outlines. Smile at me and light a cigarette, after the curtain smoke rises, it slows down your look and keep it locked in my memory, I will later, when we are far away and not be able to find the peace that I need to return again to this place and know that all is not lost.
now I stop my thoughts on stage, pulls back the curtain and I imagine on it, lit by a single bulb, radiant, reciting verses and ruffling the hair of anyone. Acting without acting, living and feeling every part of the script. So I like to imagine each day.
're all feeling and love me like this place, as this city. How are you roads we have traveled together. As the beer watered down my throat and it brings to mind old songs from Ismael. And at that moment, nothing matters but half an hour after the bitter cold at night we returned to cold and Its Discontents. Happiness is based on small things.
"Little creature, the purest essence
going in small packages.
My love, I know, the same container
also contains poison.
assume the risk, look at you and you plan
a life full of dreams.
And if not satisfied when we awake,
with daylight and see what we do "
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