Terror Sunday

At last he was alone.
The more he entered the subway, the more he felt it, that sweet, sticky smell.
Smell of fear and uncertainty.
All eyes on him.
Many went down at the first stop, the most fearful, did not wait another minute.
Those that remained, shrugged, withdrew from their sight and approached the door.
After three stops, there was only one man left.
Ajado por el tiempo.
Tanned by the years.
He got up and went slowly to the exit, his station was this.
His gray eyes looked in his direction, landed a second and quietly continued on his way.
Many steps to take.
I had to tell them.
Many years without sight
Many things without seeing.

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Bicicleta

Cuanto más divertidas mejor.
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Bicycle

The more fun the better.

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