The man, Swedish of Finnish, did not speak Spanish.
I could hear his voice every morning.
He would argue about football matches lingering on tedious and useless explanations, now in Swedish/Finish, now in English. His interlocutors did not understand him, they even laughed at him, but he seemed not to notice.
I also hear his voice this morning.
Two pigeons have made a nest in the tree. Pigeons are very silly. They make shallow nests as if to save material, and one of the eggs has broken.
How weird everything is, I think, leaning on a windowsill: first, the egg is formed, and then, from it, life emerges.
Although life will not sprout from this broken egg, I'm sure.
Well, we have reached the eternal dilemma: what comes first: the hen, or the egg? I gather there should also be a rooster around there somewhere, right?
I smile to myself.
A lady from a building next door is walking her Pekinese dog, just like every morning.
How ugly are these Pekinese!
Tiny and irritating furry pillows, with glassy eyes and nasty temper.
Colourful buses transport passengers.
Everybody runs, pushing one another, disappearing into distant alleyways.
The postman passes through the street at 11 a.m sharp, as usual.
But no one ever writes to me anymore.
Not after the traffic accident.
This is an ordinary day.
It glides past me, and I can barely touch it with my fingers.
It runs, relentless, beneath the window of my hospital room.
The nurse comes in to replace the bandage of my eyes.
A/N: Video theme: "La belleza está en los ojos del quien mira," micro-narrative text in Spanish combined with audio and video stimuli. Third place in el Certamen Internacional de Microrrelatos 2011 "Los Alephs" Fondo Internacional de la Artes Fundación FiArt.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Tales | ✔️
Short StoryThis book is a collection of numerous short stories I have created, both mini and midi ones, written in the period of the past twenty years. Some of them are award-winning entries in various micronarrative competitions. Others were adapted with the...
