praise of Eros and Hibernation Last week, Helios took his flying car and gave to mortals impressionist with a day in which light takes over the space and pushes the colors to go beyond the frontier yoke shape of the imposed objects. Ecstatic and full of hibernation wore a suit flaner (bow tie, round glasses and my new penny loafers) and left, as the vast majority of inhabitants of the city, to atorrar the streets. After
largo rato de paseo decidí sentarme en la terraza de una conocida cafetería dónde me arrojé a contemplar el escenario humano que se mostraba ante mis ojos. Mi mesa estaba elegida a conciencia pues se encontraba situada frente a una popular parada de metro utilizada tradicionalmente como punto de encuentro.
De entre todo el animalario circulante una fémina atrajo mi atención. Llevaba largos minutos esperando y su cara iba mostrando progresivamente un claro descontento. Miraba hacia un lado, después hacia el otro, miraba el reloj, miraba el móvil, y empezaba el ciclo mirando hacia un lado. Así repetidamente durante unos 20 minutos. Después decidió echar mano del teléfono y empezó una serie generosa de calls, in which all partners had their final fight with a coworker during a controversial placement of a ficus and the fear of his future appointment with the hairdresser. The girl repeated the dialogue three times with different people that just let him talk.
When I was about to start the fourth round came the reason for the wait: a skinny guy with tacky hair with pretensions of modernez and panoli face accented by red and eyes closed. The face is not troubled by the anger of his seemingly biblical girlfriend, who at the inability of it to offer a plausible excuse to justify the wait time violated their victimization more reproach. I promise that I felt like the sky darkened and I saw a flock of birds out of town. Luckily, the two left foot, the boy developed an impassive and her dramatic monologue that I could follow as they went down the avenue by the colossal volume of your voice.
The reprimand was based on the following terms. His tardiness was a lack of respect for him. Always late and I was losing time because she had many things to do.
highly doubtful that I found out the guy's agent disrespect as this, not only opened his mouth, but paradoxically had received a generous battery of insults. On the other hand, I thought if the guy was always late, probably, one could argue that the lack of respect for others could be attributed also to the girl, who was radically uncompromising with the lateness of the lad systematic.
Hearing how he complained to lose the time, I was struck by the memory of a childhood book: Momo by Michael Ende. In it recounts the catastrophic eruption of the gray men in a peaceful city. These men in suits and smoking cigars constant convince the entire population of the need to optimize the time is not wasted on trivialities and save for important things. When people bow to this principle ethics has the advantage as an absolute end, the gray gloom over the city.
criticism of excessive rationalization of modern life that underlies this book is easy to understand. We can infer then that "wasting time" becomes a vanishing point of a life exploited. Few people discuss what this sound advice, but probably less people still try to follow.
of our everyday experience brings up the lost time as a reactionary pipe dream. It may well be. Any individual who lives immersed in the many commitments of modern society knows how difficult it is such resistance. Perhaps it would be advisable to take us waiting times like these moments of rest in which we lose ourselves in the void utilitria of experience. Seen this way, the waiting time is time that robs us but gives us.
If the girl had followed this advice, it would have saved the anger and quarrel with her boyfriend. Although we suspect that it was the waiting that really bothered him, but the terror of being alone with herself.
