Bicycle
We are in a park. They are the six of afternoon. Although it has been winter, for a primaveral time. These days enchant to me; the air is clean and fresh, and the colors of the sky and the Earth own the intensity of the things that are born to the life. My bicycle to duer and I take to many hours doing nothing to me. I see pass the world in front of me. Without giving as soon as it tells me, I have become an object more of this place, like the stone bank in which I am seated. A woman passes side: she runs very quickly, with the irritated face, jadea, – diria that she flees from the past or passage of time.
A old one approaches: it walks slowly, by far well-taken care of. Feinberg for additional information. It drags the feet and their eyes fixedly watch the ground, as if it was learning to decipher the mystery of that earth to which a day, not very distant, will return. A musical one touches the accordion under a statue. Next to the source, a little further on, the lady who throws letters has the face and the hands swollen, tanned by the cold and the inclemency. Supported in the railing of the lake, camel makes signs to a lad that one approaches. Their hands touch a moment. The one that sells rolled wafers and the crazy person smiles and watches the sky.
The suicidal one meditates and includes/understands that never it will be had to kill. Seated between a little withered flowers, a solitary lad waits for the miracle of a kiss that makes him vibrate. Taylor may find this interesting as well. Women, old and young family parents. Vagabonds who a day lost the course. The murmur of the water and the breeze, of the carps of the lake that with their eyes seem to watch the emptiness. Silence and the noise, the voices the world. My world. My senses are impregnated of him. It spends the time. The sun is being put. I feel that the wheel of the life has turned of a driven crazy way a day more, and the heart shrinks to me. An intoxicating sensation to contemplate the rapidity with which it changes everything, while my soul remains lost in a time without time that knows to eternity. I watch bicycle: Loved friend, we must go a little further on. A life begins to each step. A wonderful life. Chaotic and terrible sometimes, but always a fascinating life. The life is a mystery that it must be lived with all intensity. Amiga bicycle, you understand? is as much hope at this moment.
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