15 ene. 2011

. TONTUNAS MENTALES: EL HOMBRE TRISTE

Twice i've seen this man, grabbing his head, staring at the floor, not moving. 


The first time I saw him, three days ago, he was standing outside the doors of the station, his gaze lost, drawn in his own thoughts. He seemed to be hesitating whether or not he should enter them. 

He looked so fragile.

This past two days, i've passed him on my way home, right at the same doors of the station that he didn't dare cross the first day. 
He did enter, and now he sits there, on a little bench, unaware of the hundreds of people who are passing by, frowning at him with fright or disgust, or not even looking. 

Both days I've walked past him and both days i've stopped and watched him from outside the glass windows. He hasn't moved a bit, he hasn't looked up. Why would he? 

Both days i've been unable to approach him and ask if i can help.

I'm scared of him, he looks sick, old, though he's probably not even 60. He's bold and his white head is covered in scars. The thing is, he doesn't look like a beggar, or a criminal, and he doesn't seem to be drunk. 

He just seems like a man who's life hasn't gone as he expected.

He doesn't move, just sits still, staring at the floor looking desperate and lonely. He probably wouldn't like my staring at him, i know that, but i can't help it. 


Debería acercarme a él


Quiero ser como Mr.Narayanan Krishnan

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