Stories of my beloved Buenos Aires

Stories of good air. Buenos Aires my dear

"She was a lady, who no longer goes out at night. But this time, the fall of the sun caught in the act. Both now share a fleeting way, agree that the air of Buenos Aires dear, are no longer so good. But nevertheless, with its 58 Aprils in tow, he still believes in romance ... "

Monica Beatriz Gervasoni (Buenos Aires)

In a cross geographies, with the obelisk as a silent witness and smog used to stun and sound, sealed off a street filled with mythical chronic tiles Buenos Aires, the mature man, taxi office, down the flag.

Wiseacre, having seen both loose and both suicidal madman. Have distinguished the moon walking plump for Callao. Carved force his soul to have lived. Have in their pockets more than a couple of good advice, tinged with tango, rock mixed with your grandchildren, serving to take it with soda. Or at least a little more Light. Otherwise, the pressure and cholesterol are lurking to kidnap hostage is his homespun philosophy.

She was a lady, who no longer goes out at night. But this time, the fall of the sun, caught in the act. Both now share a fleeting way, agree that the air of Buenos Aires, my dear, are not as good. But nevertheless, with its 58 Aprils in tow, he still believes in romance. Women and less, even the ladies are asked not age, but it should look like a pompous, 60, Spring.

She who frowning and says, but you were thrown to the lions, venturing in these times, even romance. And it offers a diatribe about the time of the promises buyers. Of eternal youth. Discard the old and the old men and women. That swarm the plastic and disposable as a sign of the times. To defend him from the clutches of a reality that flatters only engulfs youth and all the rest. But he says, despite everything, never knew how to live differently. And now it is again only after a lifetime shared, and at this stage of events and age, can not change. And I still believe in Romeo and Juliet. She helplessly smiles. His mission failed. A touch of resignation, of fascination because he dares to what she already closed its gates. Although love and romance are your biggest secret and longing. Open the door. Has reached the destination. Palermo Viejo, and waiting. But just in case, leaves him in word, to give you a soft kiss to Buenos Aires rouge, as always.

But at night. When you become more intense and tender kisses of lovers. In Buenos Aires, who like many, are beyond good and evil. In Buenos Aires, impossible not to love. So reviled is no longer as before, nor then, but he remains, mixed with outlaw inmate. Mixed shooters with jeans. Bohemian mix of stories. Sample of each true to his style and devoted of all. Still keeping his eyes feverish. And old wizard who has enchanted everyone who can not leave his home and influence. The author of enchantment that causes so many to leave, die of nostalgia and melancholy, want to return.

Showcase looks of passers-office in the morning. And glittering sequins and glitter like shooting stars at night that he still wants to republish Moscato, pizza and Fain, but increasingly make it more impossible. Presenter of the Buenos Aires Buenos Aires in bearing his buttonhole, in the eyes, in his walk and even his accent. But each in his own way, absolutely personal, and the anonymous taxi, betting and daring to find love, just around any corner.

published in www.sosperiodista.com

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