Another day begins in the cold, gray metropolis, another rainy day dawns, brooding bad mood in this concrete jungle. The same rush, the same people bumping while the train is not chega.Tudo spontaneously methodically equal and different.
out of the station cover my shoulders with my coat and protect my body with the help of the umbrella. Looking straight ahead, cross the street and seek a place where drops thick, cold, sharp and heavy they can not reach me.
Today, the center is different. There are so many more people lying on the sidewalk while jumping thin and sturdy shoes serpentine melody and produce a frenzy on the asphalt.
Trash was still leaning on lampposts, closed-door or in the middle fine. People do not go well, perhaps for fear of falling on the slippery surface of the streets.
Less than 200 meters after the season stuck the red light. And for some reason I focused on a green garbage bag across the Street, a flash haunted my thoughts when I thought of an old movie or TV show would be a recent, where people end up dead inside.
When passing along I realized that was not garbage, it was a man totally stuck inside the plastic bag, curled in a fetal position, still.
I turned my body to the other side of the street and realized that all the bags of garbage in the streets of the Republic were in fact people. Children, young men and protecting themselves from the cold in the same object they threw scraps of food and used toilet paper.
The whole scene was being built in my eyes as a cry to wake me up from the trance. A guy with no shirt and white pants, he ran barefoot, screaming for Rita.
