Galleta del avión
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I wake up to the alarm clock called reggaetón. The cries of a street vendor sound from afar. Pushing the cart with fruits through the Argentinian maze. I rise and inject myself with an early morning liquid dose of caffeine.
After a day of dream chasing I decide to take a break and to rediscover the outside world. I trudge over the sidewalks to the city park. A fair amount of homeless people are residing in the porches. Mumbling, holding out a cup, or resting under dirty blankets, hoping to wake up to a better reality.
Being adamant about staying alive, I wait in front of the pedestrian crossing. Over here those white stripes are perceived as nothing more than a reminder that brakes are for quitters.
I arrive at the city park. A place where fresh air and palm trees replace the crowdedness and artwork of cement. Offices turn into beach towels, frowns in suits turn into strollers and the elderly.
Walking along the park lake I catch myself staring back at me, seeing enough to reflect on. All this time in a world that for long had been unknown to me has made me grown accustomed to all its habits and rarities. Yet I know I’ll never become unfamiliar to my family.
As I’m about to lose myself in philosophical tendencies I get accompanied by my new, self-proclaimed best friend. His numerous attempts of selling me socks fall on deaf ears. He turns around and curses at me, I wish him all the best.
Forty minutes have passed since I started my daily walkabout and I head back home. I near my apartment and hear bachata music coming from a square close by. I walk over to fall in love with this continent all over again.
Feet are shuffling. From five years old to people over eighty: all are dancing. Even though my movement and rhythm are in a seperate universe, I join in.
A new song starts playing, I switch dancing partners. My new teacher smiles at me. She asks me the question that’s asked by random good hearted people multiple times per day, “Where you frong?”
I take her hands and move my feet, compensating missteps with confidence.
It doesn’t matter where I’m from. All that matters is that I’m here right now.
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