all started one morning when I started the engine of my car and walked down the street without knowing where he was going. If that day I was late for work was not for the rush-hour traffic jams, but by the laziness with which I walked round and round, by squares and avenues, like the leaf of a tree that is carried away by the wind without put anything on your part. The next day I ran down the stairs of my house, but once on the sidewalk I forgot I had your own car, and I had to call a taxi to meet my obligations. Was that my last working day since the day after, with his overcoat and briefcase in hand, I did not find a valid reason to make me cross the threshold of my apartment. Thereafter, for several weeks, I heard voices and noises on the landing of the stairs, who ended up getting used. I also got used to the ringing phone, which irritated me at first but his fierce insistence that, before the right to disconnect, even spent part of the whole domestic avatars, so common in my neighborhood. One day, finally someone wearing a strange costume Praetorian broke down the door of my home with an ax, and went into the bedroom, pointing a flashlight. He then said something like he did not know exactly why he was there. But I did not understand what he meant.
Text: Peter Smith. Image: Josep Vilaplana
Text: Peter Smith. Image: Josep Vilaplana
0 comments:
Post a Comment