“Today, to day of what happens to the day”
Laurent's has come out of his own history. He has come to tell us one more episode of his staging. A stage for his-your painting. Breathing. First aid was what came to his memory. Allergic to stiff clothing. To soy´s milk. He came to tell us that he tried to move out. That he has been left to come to new place and he found him seeing to himself. He was offered to be carried out to see the place. Laurent's has accepted, for this time, and let go, another time. That had reminded him that places, even if they do not say so similar to our history, have something more than that, they have a memory. Nothing is what he thought he would become; not in expectation even in narrow margins of already narrow possibilities. It was about a special frame of ranging marks.
The car has parked. He has set himself on the side that corresponds to the co-pilot trying to carry out the purpose of that hot hour of a summer. Someone asked him through the mesenger, what's the weather like there? And Laurent's thought: shit. In summer. Shit, in winter. I mean .... if it was not for what it is ...
In short, something shook –quivering- him, a wave of sweat were running down his spine. The humidity of the weather. Thus the irrepressible sensation of the latent –throb- but arrested downpour was made him fantasize about what would be possible if only paying to lie would be worth for changing the inter course. Sufficient material or not.
The driver has tried to boot but the car has resisted. Laurent's friend has apologized. –“I've come all the way here, I've just thrown gasolina and after that I decidet to turn off the car while I were waiting for you”-; but the truth iwas that many lights on the vehicle and sounds were making lighting in the ignition panel, it seemed that the battery had died, suddenly. It's that simple.
He got out of the car, trying to call for vehicular assistance, trying to figure out what had happened. Trying to get some help. He got off and left the car, in neutro, without a parking brake, on a small tilting. His door and the back left door was open. Laurent's noticed the handbrake down. He has seized it. And also, while he was waiting on the phone line for someone from the insurer to attend, and offer him a solution, Laurent´s have told him. –“Oh, it´s the last Straw” he said, as if to tell it to himself. Total, Laurent's apologized, and said to him that he regrets –in some way- leaving him there, waiting for the crane, but the case was that in fact he didn´t do nothing there, with him . His friend was in a safe place, in a "safe" country. Someone had said, if this happened to you in Venezuela ... and Lauent's, I thought ...
Laurent´s thought: “-If I would say here what I was thinking, I would surely be stripped of my European nationality”-. Laurent's thought of the times he had not grabbed things, of course, that's why he could not go anywhere because if he didnt´t pick up any transport it's impossible to go anywhere ... unless he made a pilgrimage, on foot. Anyway ... everything comes to an end. Sometimes, in jest. Sometimes, not so much ....