Morning Maria
João Pires
Delayed, he went down to the garage, waited and fit the kids in the car, and fully pressed the gas pedal to the early delivery of custom. He went up to the city center and let the older front of the language institute.
- Always cross at marked crosswalks, obey any pedestrian signals and look left-right-left, if a vehicle approaches, make eye contact with the driver and just look before walking past stopped vehicles, I told him.
- All right, he nodded the small, yet wearied by sleep, although eleven in the morning.
Then he went on trip to post the youngest in tennis class. Traffic was sticky. He walked at a leisurely pace. Later I could hear live music from an accordion squealed musical notes and a dancing cow, waving to passersby.
- What is that cow doing here, Dad?
- Behind that cow and the accordion is a butcher.
Chances are doing a promotion to the butcher.
- What is promotion? Insisted the girl.
Promotion is a kind of reminder. We're here. Come here.
- Ah yes. I get it, she said. Come here to buy beef, concludes.
- That.
That's weird. A cow dancing to the sound of blaring accordion music and invite to be eaten. The sound of music stayed behind to leave to hear completely, drowned out by traffic noise. Once inside the small roundabout, made output signal towards the tennis club.
He wished her good workout, kissed her on the forehead and sent her to the presence of Kiri teacher. Then he left the club, followed by walking tour and something caught his attention. There was a movement of people out of the ordinary for a Saturday morning. Scout everywhere. Young daisies, brownies, cadettes, ambassadors, tigers, wolves, bears and webelos.
- Hello, I asked. Why are so many scouts here?
- Today is the World Day of Scouting and we are gathered here, said a young not too short and not too long, elegant shoulder length falling right at curly and cute hairstyle and freckles to compose her face.
I followed my way up to the terrace as usual. I ordered a coffee at the counter to serve on the terrace. Smells like hotcakes. The sky was grey but just promised rain. Came the orange uniformed maid with coffee. Unpleasantly warm. I decided not to complain. Too relaxed for such task. The terrace had two or three tables occupied. On the table in front of me were two young girls producing selfies with her phone decorated with pink hearts. Eyes in seductive position.
-Don't make a kissing gesture with your lips, says one to other. A closed-mouth coy smile can be just as appropriate with her own fleshy red lipstick just for selfies and hair to compose faces. Enjoyed themselves for a few minutes making portraits of two teenager girls friends holding heads together aond pulling her faces at the camera.
The boy sat in front is limited to follow the production of selfies and talking about the school subjects. Girls paid no attention.
I consulted my paper notebook and went back to reading notes from January 2015. As it is curious that so important notes on that date had passed to history and to have lost all importance. I finished the coffee and stuck the notepad in my pocket. I went to the counter and was attended by another maid orange juice.
- That will be sixty-five cents, please.
- Here you are. Have a nice day.
Out toward the municipal library, right there in front of me. I crossed the street outside the crosswalk. Minutes before had asked the children to cross only at crosswalks.
The outer part of the library consists of an adjustable Louvre awnings to make some sha inside, thus producing an indirect light.
In the lobby was an art exhibition of painters who could one day become famous. At least some of them. Went up to the top floor, the reading of the floor for the adults, it is written at the entrance. There was running a Reading Program for Young Adults.
- Good morning, I threw the librarian.
- Good morning, she said lifting his head and back to dive eyes a dense volume, after adjusting the glasses.
The books were there lined up on each shelf, as if waiting to be chosen and handled. Some had been blessed with such luck, as they were on the tables waiting to be brought back to their home shelves after a brief statistical registration. On that day, I felt that the books were even willing to talk. The ideas were trapped in that library. Sometimes I find beautiful thoughts in almost unknown books.
I went through the stacks feeling that their ideas out less and less to the street.
Outside living the reality show, the selfie, social networks, Botox and many other realities of the twenty-first century.
One in the afternoon . Time to go get the kids.
João Pires
João Pires
