La vida

Un anciano llega a la plaza y se sienta.
Abre su bolsa blanca y empieza a cortar pedacitos de pan duro, arrojándolos a las palomas, que enseguida vuelan hacia él, y se quedan cerca, golosas.
Las palomas, sus compañeras de vida.

De pronto, un niño llega, corriendo, y las palomas vuelan...
Su aleteo levanta polvo y el anciano apenas se ve, aún sentado en el banco de plaza.

Sonríe.
El niño tambien.
Ellos saben de qué se trata.
Quietud. Y movimiento.
Vejez, niñez.

La vida.

(foto tomada en Parque Lezama, Cap. Fed.)
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An old man arrives at a park and sits down.
Opens his white bag and starts cutting small pieces of hard bread. Throws them to the pigeons, that quickly fly towards him and stay close, greedy.
Pigeons; his life partners.

Suddenly a boy comes running, and the pigeons fly away...
Their fluttering lifts dust, and the old man, hardly seen, remains seated on the park bench.

Smiles.
The boy smiles too.
They know what it's all about.
Calm and movement.
Old age, and childhood.

Life.

(picture taken at Parque Lezama, Cap. Fed.)