Kids and cycles

In the corners there are many stories, there is always an immense possibility of knowing the incredible adventures of a few or simple and flat gossip from the majority of people around. This is how I met a passing traveler, a one-day character, he was an older young man who for many years had been wandering around on his bicycle from here to there. He had come to our neighborhood over a summer, he was in the Atelier to repair his baika assembled from a wheel alignment. When the older young man, whom I do not remember his name at this time, talked about his pilgrim journeys, he did so with a certain conviction of memory, shame and pride. - I was never afraid of walking on the roads at night, - he said with that certainty of walking victorious - what I feel is an electric sensation of knowing what there is after a certain place and after another and so on forever. The family, well thank you, the slave labor, the money and the property, they are nothing to me. I am from the road, I am the...

On a certain occasion, near the barrier between childhood and adolescence, I craved coffee. On hot days it is taken warm, on cold days it is taken very hot. At the Atelier there began to be a jug or two a day, consumed between morning and mid-afternoon. Working while enjoying coffee with music is not working. Unhappiness, life has told me, moves with unequivocal rhythms between the misery of the future or the past and the enjoyment of the present. A good ride on a rainy summer morning after greeting a beautiful woman and, on the contrary, a painful fall in the middle of the road next to the winding road. The bicycle I never owned was brown, but the taste that is savored on a calm day always brings the aromatic flavor of coffee, that liberator of energy that works very well for the cyclist. Today, unfortunately, I only have to drink coffee and watch the shoot of the last years of youth go by. _____ El café Cierta ocasión, cerca de la barrera entre la infancia y la adolescencia apetecí e...

Hace calor. Unos pequeños seres humanos revolotean como mariposas a lo largo de todo el verano. Las figuras formadas en las nubes del cielo caliente están prácticamente inmóviles. Deben ser los días más difíciles de la canícula, los días perros. Los ciclos están presentes en todas partes, observo, a mitad del año, en todas partes. Los ciclos hacen ir y venir, dentro y fuera de él. Los ciclos hacen girar por dentro y ellos giran por afuera. Mueven a las individuos, mueven sus hábitos, mueven a los deseos de las personas. Los ciclos mueven a los mismos ciclos.  Hay un niño en casa, hay varias personas al rededor, hay objetos de todo tipo en el lugar, un poco de todo, un poco de nada, juguetes, trastos, ropa, utensilios de algún oficio perdido. Pero entre todo sobresale una silueta, azulada, duramente metálica, arquetipo, cíclica. Una hermosa y vieja bicicleta está recaída en el suelo, triste por desuso. No hay ansiedad para jugarla, no hay presión para manejar...