Three women. A, E, M. At the bar, late afternoon. A drink a cup of coffee to American, and a glass of red wine firm, M a smooth water.
A. Confused, restless, paranoia tattooed in thick geometric embroidery on the face. Apparently absent eyes, trying to untangle the skein, resulting in further complicate the game. Holds with both hands the cup of hot coffee narrow and long, near the mouth, look for comfort in the rising steam. The coffee back home, but you may want to leave the guide and lead the world, in the bars of the city at a table watching the flow of the sidewalk and the silence of the dark, watching other people's stories or finding themselves unwittingly in, simple stories, every day, plays, poker moral hopelessnesses lost twenty-first century, satisfaction blindness or finalized. Coffees to go as in America, and then public parks, benches, autumn, from jogging to running about the welfare or the outburst of anger from accumulated stress .. notice the difference: the neurotic, one that has just been fired, it is recognized by not keeping their gymnastics, usually a crowd in suits shaking in 24 hours or run your laptop with the strap, which ends up throwing, liberating and resigned in a scream together, the frustration in the pond, duck raising a racket that would have preferred a few pieces of old bread. Then maybe you will knock him well, but later at night when no one can stop it or save it, when the water will break with his jacket stuffed with rocks, and fall asleep on fondo.Gli others, the flying buttresses of the upper floors, running through the shape, stretch fabrics and capacious lungs, have declared war on toxins and free radicals, unable to make their case, as health and energy of these thieves prosecuted legally, have the illusion of being able to escape into space athletic effort. Run like you run up against big business, the stick and the carrot of economic merciless and shameless. They run to the park, and run the office, running on the phone, run at lunch, run to bed. Also run from the dead, maybe. And coffee
desk, furnishings a must for every race and kind of workers and dreamers, artists, writers, managers secretaries employed medical students professors, almost manages to give consistency to efforts of the brain, the cup there to witness the shared existence, to keep them awake to the goal, after years and years. The cup that creates unexpected, upsetting suspiciously on valuable cards, keyboards shorting out, staining clothes and breaking the hard working in their minds clear considerations. The mug of awakening, the cardboard, the popular bar that is all because even if you wash you know how many there have been drinking?!, The plastic disposable served by a bartender with tokens often forget the toothpick to mix or is too engrossed while say stop with the sugar and continue to pay and so you drink a beverage already terribly unpleasant when an iceberg floating in blood sugar crystals. The cup and a cigarette and ashtray cup, cup and a book, dirty cup with other cups in the sink that slowly turns the dirty cups in the cabinet. Forgot the cup in the bathroom the morning after waking up in yet another delay. The broken cup and reassembled the broken cup in the garbage, but a little 'throw it sorry. The cup gun fights raging, full or empty, just throw it and hit the target. The polished wooden cup of fair trade in order to feel indigenous tribal ritual of coffee and savor the taste of the rainforest in the awakening of primal instincts. The dog bowl, the toilet bowl which is often that of the dog, the cup of the rides that turns turns around and is full of vomit. Cups filled with empty cups. The soul is like a cup that we must always keep busy, it can contain only a short time and yet be emptied before refilling. And if it is dirty, clean it, but maybe going to taste.
E. Talk talk talk, drunk on wine and life. She pauses to join the chorus of some songs really funny, then resumed the talkative soliloquy. He has ideas, several of each type for each season, confused and grandiose, nothing is insurmountable and with those ideas can do anything he wants. His mind paints, writes, reads, processes joints of freedom and glory, travel by train to the big city to el ferment the art, to the love of this sometimes-but he cares little. She loves life and the mad frenzy el nonsense and the poetry of the creative act. You can also go to the store and pay the bill with a drawing of a symbol for your fervent art, you are art because art is life, is what breaks the mold el-routine is the detail that becomes a giant super powers and fights any setting, is the thrill of understanding of other dimensions and connections, is to create alternative living. You're a little god unpretentious but of omnipotence that trembles in his own consciousness. Still wine, thank you!
M. She's tired, worn out from work, degraded by the hopes that he could have told her. The first communion, his face pale and fears, the pride of Catholic parents, the priest chants, the sign of the cross, boredom and guilt for doubting the existence of God. Her child a picture of the god had ever seen on TV and even on the news, everybody talks about but nobody knows who he is. The yeti, monster lockness and even the aliens are disturbed some trace it to leave. But no god. He disappeared from circulation after suffering the worst injuries and did a little 'of magic around. And a saaaacco time ago. How is this possible? You so easy to forget even having met someone in person and he does not. Then mediocre grades in school, have too much fantasy, too. Alone with her grandmother, parents met almost by accident at dinner, tired, wasted work, discouraged by the hopes that have had time to forget the back. Calculations, subtractions and additions, practice over the years and the age when you realize that 40 years will almost certainly saran their dead. The very first low blow of life, discover the pain in advance, for the first time really feel helpless. The death is not heaven nor hell, nor the angels who protect us. Death is evil and can not be cured. There are no games or flights of fancy to lighten the day, there is only a common destiny and remember to breathe because it serves to live. And wait.
The coffee is cold, the wine is finished, the glass of water is half empty. A
wakes from the tour of the cups. Find out the road, it rains. Umbrellas scurrying to pass quickly to the front window of the bar. The rain increased, violent beats Torque tube loose is thrown to the ground rebounded in a big fog droplets. The cues are more fragile and break with sudden powerful gusts of wind, which passes from below to above the side seems crazy and never stop passers-by. The umbrellas turned out of hand and follow the currents. It rains so hard that the mind can not think of anything else, everyone have a share of that unexpected. Who curses him, seems to have just had a shower dress, those in a hurry and impatient waiting in the arcades that raindrops fall, and who can not wait to be able to delay and lights a cigarette and reading the newspaper, who collects data on events related to study the seasonal average, those who drive and must pull over because we do not see a bat emerita, who is now and if the bike is taken and all the danger is his business, whoever you are flooding the basement and on and on with smanetta brooms and rags dry sawdust, and some as completely insane and embarks on the road to jump in puddles at the bottom of and dance and sing and shout for joy freed, who stunned the crazy looks like M in the flood, drawing up a list of ailments and inconvenient, as to all those who can not see anything at this already vague and distant thoughts, as the bartender who top up the glass E, warms the cold coffee and brings the account of A to M. And change the CD on the stereo because it has already broken.
