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Mi bici

Realmente es ella, la miro fijamente y pienso que ciertamente es ella. 

Seguro que no tuvo hogar antes de llegar, no tenía un verdadero compañero antes de quedarse aquí en el Atelier durante seis meses. Llegó como marcada, con la cubierta manchada, el pasado sucio y el presente borroso. Era una baika rota del alma. Entre lo frío del hierro la cuidamos, la conservamos entre lo etílico de la pintura.  



Ahora es una pequeña señora bicicleta, es una dama sin realeza pero con una vida enderezada por las correctas herramientas de aire y caucho. Pasó el invierno en el sótano de la memoria junto a otras personalidades de dos ruedas, de una rueda o sin ruedas. Recobró el color del ánimo, al lado de piezas cromadas, piezas nuevas, piezas de segunda mano.

Mañana se irá con su acompañante, un niño de doce años, a dar una mínima vuelta al mundo, comenzar a rodar por las callejuelas y los polvorientos caminos, a dar una minúscula vida al manillar y a los pedales. Hay una salvación para el plástico de los aros, vivir para dar alegría a los juegos de un infante, dar el máximo al servicio de los pies del futuro.     

____

My bike


It really is her, I stare at her and think it certainly is her.


She must have been homeless before arriving, she did not have a real partner before staying here at the Atelier for six months. She arrived as marked, with the cover stained, the past dirty and the present blurred. She was a broken baika of the soul. Between the cold of the iron of it we take care of it, we conserve it between the ethyl of the painting.

She now she is a little bicycle lady, she is a lady without royalty but with a life straightened out by the correct air and rubber tools. She spent the winter in the cellar of memory with other personalities on two wheels, on one wheel or without wheels. She recovered the color of the spirit, next to chrome parts, new parts, second-hand parts.

Tomorrow he will go with her companion, a twelve-year-old boy, to go around the world a little, start rolling through the alleys and dusty roads, to give a tiny life to the handlebars and pedals. There is a salvation for the plastic of the hoops, to live to give joy to the games of an infant, to give the maximum to the service of the feet of the future.

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