Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Sentinel Dongle Reader

My neighborhood according to Ruben Damore

God dropped me in a suburb of Lanus. I do not know the cause, I do not know why, but I do not discuss or disapprove, moreover, adhere and thank you.
wanted life to be born without natural gas, the water was running, salty and not potable, that the light be careful, that there was no phone. That frustrated me and I do not conditioned.
also wanted to grow between pastures, clubs, rubber balls, figurines, the Club del Clan, Beatles and rock'n'roll.
And the divine hand gave me a wonderful thing: neighborhood friends.
some conservatives and hopefully for a long time. Others simply lost them, they flew to another neighborhood and left me only that: your flight.
Together we learned that he had not resisted butterfly that branch of paradise and extreme violence that was exercised in a team that the purchase of a rubber ball and further use was the invitation to the partnership, that the hidden uninhabited land was the beginning of the adventure, that carnival represented a battle of the sexes, that the bicycle was the invitation to tourism street, a neighbor bastard poked the ball back to us or was cut in half the mass of hatred and skipjack be raised in windy August 1, mimicked the wings of our dreams.
The wide sidewalks with grass at the end and below the dark green trench, that staining the clothes but it was our river, the train was moving house that immensity and deafened as they passed. Morning
heard from the grinder to the paperboy. In the afternoon the ice cream on hot days and cold pochoclero when noticed in the nose. At night the wagons dragged their misery herding something usable from the unusable. My neighborhood was nice ... it was cute ... pucha
On days when I come back, because it always comes back, I changed it something adult, I feel the rustic tiles resumed their lives, generate the heat of summer berries that stain again and push the neighbors house to sweep.
The neighborhood, my friend, is that place where time stopped to watch us pass, is the only one able to become children again. Is the one who preserves our history and our dreams and sometimes I question: will return one day, it is true that back?


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