II
When i was a kid, i used to walk. A Lot.
I was always looking at people’s faces thinking what they may be thinking to themselves, some of them were very angry or at least had very hard faces, some of them would smile at me cuz’ i kept staring. People was always running, walking fast in suits and high heels.
But then on a hot summer sunday, we went out to walk from side to side of Lafayette avenue, i didn’t like sundays back then, as i do not like them now, but this in particular, made me feel fabbergasted. I will always remember the feeling of being immersed on this mob of people, very glamorous all of them walking as kings and queens and surrounded by the most beautiful buldings i had ever seen (i was four). And then coming out of nowhere at the end of the road this lady wearing as shoes six boys. There was a little ‘o’ in the middle of my childish face.
We turned around, i was always holding mom and dad’s hands, and suddenly i looked the faces of the kids that had been removed a few meters out of the fashion way, kids as little as me, although the had the look of a ten year old in their eyes… See, when i was four, i thought ten was the biggest and the very last number of the count, all the grown ups would have ten years old, even very wrinkled grannys. My world was that little, and i was happy…
Until that moment
A bit later, i would try to speak english, only talking gibberish, but that would be my secret language to communicate the pain i felt to see these kids my age, begging for money and doing all kinds of things to get it. I secretly cried in the back seat of the car on the way home, i knew my parents would not understand if i go to them for comfort.
And i stopped walking.
’till i was sixteen.
