Ballenas varadas
La ciudad estaba tranquila at that hour of the morning. The first showed her spring color in the flowerbeds in the park. Sunday promised to be a relaxed and calm. Oscar bought the paper, as he did every Sunday, and took the road of the park ready to find a place to read with a certain serenity and silence.
Among the international news section that did not stop talking about the disaster in the Middle East and national issues, was coming to the local section, that's where Oscar was found with an unexpected surprise. Featured a three-column photo of a few people on bicycles and a caption, a text appeared saying "Cyclists urban claim a more humane and livable city. "
Oscar I could not believe it, there appeared almost in the foreground Andrés, Bernard and Agnes and a little further back, the corner of the Bank of Spain, with the C / Alcalá off into the distance.
Now, Oscar, was wondering how many years had passed, and barely remember those years of struggle in which they met these three people: Andrew, Bernard and Agnes and he, with many more, as Adela, Elizabeth, Mark and the French boy named Pierre who came from Paris. They gathered all on one floor of an old neighborhood Madrid and there between discussions and talks, believed and wanted, to fix a world that did not satisfy them. There were generated environmental groups, urban ecologists, conservationists and social.
been many years since I saw them last may, perhaps twenty, I hardly remember, he thought, but there they were, making war, if you can write that word in the context of a people who believed in a utopian world without arms, of an ideal world in which the word had the power and everyone was respected by itself, in which the economy does not dictate the standards of the people, be they Eastern or Western , in a world where everything was consensual decisions voted by the people, not multinational or leading companies or banks.
He had long had moved away from all this, had reached a certain "status" professional work and family, came a time when his life was no longer that. Now he, I saw a picture of a national newspaper and thought that those people were like those old whale stranded on the coasts, stranded in a time of dreams and illusions that were not "real", "the pragmatic "to move in a world like this, they were like islands amid losses a sea full of monsters and banalities, which was what had been making the world.
Suddenly, apropos of nothing, I was reminded of that image of a person demonstrating in front of the White House in Washington in the 70's, with a banner that read "Give Peace a Chance" day after day and, even months. One day, an executive of a large multinational that he was always seen there from his limousine, brake the car, approaches him and asks: Hey, why are you still manifest, if you know it's not going to solve anything? And protester replied:
Yes, surely the world will not change, but at least the world will not change me.
Oscar lifts her head and her eyes lost in the remoteness of the park, perhaps, too, is lost in the distance of a lost time, which perhaps he - not his friends, either as a of those ancient whales stranded ,...................... stranded on the coast of disappointment and disillusionment.
0 comments:
Post a Comment