Cositas to the air...

Para los que hablan ENGLISH...

"He used to leave home for school, every morning, around eight. He took the road by the highway, did a seven or eight minutes walk, and then reached the high school parking lot. A short little hike to fill his lungs with striking pure air, enjoy a few minutes of frozen time and sink in an incredible feeling of well being that shook him from head to toes, even when saggy eyes still marked his face and his mind kept fighting to overcome somnolence. In a way, he felt it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, as he had heard in his English class, just a few days ago. Yes, indeed, being that young, he felt life was worth every single minute. And the vision of that beautiful girl, approaching, by the same sidewalk, heading his direction, irrupted like the confirmation of the fact that things could always get even better.

She walked absorbed in thought - like she did every day-. She felt cold. Very cold. But a victim to her worries, she was not even able to decipher the shivering of her body, nor to search, among the thousand items of her handbag, for a simple scarf to fight the harshness of the weather. In her eyes, the gravel on the sidewalk, the houses on the sides, the huge trees outlining the road, everything, absolutely everything, melted in just one senseless constant blur. Her thoughts, had she wanted to hang with them, for just a moment of her particular trance, held the same threat that trying to jump on a spinning wheel, while still moving. When he crossed her view, like every morning, he said hello. Like every morning, too, she didn’t even notice him."

And now in ESPANOL too...
"Cada ma?ana, alrededor de las ocho, él salía de casa, cogía el camino que bordeaba la carretera y, después de siete u ocho minutos, alcanzaba los estacionamientos de la escuela. Un breve trayecto durante el cual el aire le invadía los pulmones con una pureza inaudita, los minutos parecían congelarse y una increíble sensación de bienestar sacudía todo su cuerpo; incluso cuando las ojeras continuaban marcándole los ojos y la mente seguía luchando por superar la somnolencia. En cierto modo, it was the best of times, it was the worse of times, como había escuchado en su clase de literatura inglesa, hacia sólo unos días. Sí, la vida, para sus pocos a?os, todavía era algo que valía la pena. Y la visión de aquella hermosa chica, caminando en sentido contrario, por la misma acera, irrumpía como la confirmación de que las cosas, aún, podían ser mejores.

Ella caminaba absorta, como cada día. Sentía frío. Mucho frío. Pero presa de sus preocupaciones, su cerebro era incapaz de decodificar los temblores de su cuerpo y rebuscar, entre las mil cosas de su bolso, por una simple bufanda para atenuar las inclemencias del tiempo. Frente a sus ojos, la gravilla de la acera, las casas del camino, los imponentes árboles que marcaban la senda, todo, absolutamente todo, se fundía en un barrido constante y sin sentido. Sus pensamientos, si es que en algún momento de su particular trance hubiera querido detenerse en ellos, encerraban la misma amenaza que intentar subir a una rueda giratoria, en pleno movimiento. Al pasar frente a sus ojos, como todas las ma?anas, él le dijo “hola”. Como todas las ma?anas, también, ella ni siquiera le vió."