Zona chilanga | Cincuenteando II Revista ESPEJO (Comunicado de prensa) Ella, y la lista, se encontraban, de nuevo, en Zipolite. La tenue luz que llegaba del foco del balcón fue la perfecta para comenzar. El reggae sonó toda ...

Zona chilanga | Cincuenteando II Revista ESPEJO (Comunicado de prensa) Ella, y la lista, se encontraban, de nuevo, en Zipolite. La tenue luz que llegaba del foco del balcón fue la perfecta para comenzar. El reggae sonó toda ...

Chilean zone | Cincuenteando II

 MARÍA JULIA HIDALGO

Travel is for the rich. The phrase was recorded when the mother told her sister that she was crazy for wanting to travel to Europe: "You have air in your head, that's what happens."

His sister believed it because, to tell the truth, he did have a little wind that sometimes clouded his reason. But she was more modest in her claims, at least at the beginning. It started without a fan or ads. Just do it , I had listened. His first detachment was from the paternal home. He got roomies and then planted himself in the capital in a modest apartment. He took a little air and without runaway made his first flights; although she would say jumps. He knew what the north was, but rather what he called it was the south.

He made the list. The famous list, the one that should not be missing when you go to cook, to the supermarket, to the pharmacy or to the doctor so as not to forget to mention the evils; traveling was no less important than those domestic endilgas. Organize routes and lodgings, choose loose, comfortable clothes, something light to feel, to live freedom. He made a backpack. He was 22 when the course of his life changed. Nobody knows well what would have happened with the stroke that was intended, because life is chosen and the rest is forgotten. He did so. Now, at almost 50, he wanted to resume and revisit those places on the list. Those he discovered despite the maternal prognosis. He did so. He started with a beach. She, and the list, were, again, in Zipolite.

The dim light that came from the focus of the balcony was the perfect start. Reggae sounded all night and he had no choice but to get up and do something. Leaving with them was not so simple, you had to go down the spiral staircase and walk through the unlit courtyard. Last night I had seen a swarm of wasps and ant paths along the path. I didn't want to turn on the light, it wasn't going to be that someone woke up, and what I wanted. He resisted, he doubted, but what else, what was not back in each place to revive something? He returned not in the flattest sense, but in that meditative, conscious, one that makes recapitulate and shape things; as said. He turned on the phone screen and went down carefully. He guided himself to the beach. There they were as God brought them into the world.

To be continue…

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