Blind Man’s Bluff

I like walking through the empty city at night. It is a pleasure to go around without anybody bumping into me, without racing cars or loud noises that get on my nerves. I feel like the king of the silent metropolis, anarchic, uninhabited, imperturbable.

As I walk along the dusky streets, I try to guess the hidden way, hardly illuminated by the faint light in the corner and the end of my burning cigarette. It reminds me of those unforgettable moments of my childhood, when I played the blind man’s bluff with the kids in the neighborhood and they laughed at my inability to find them in the dark. Poor fool, good-for-nothing, they told me, taking advantage of the fact that I was the youngest and most naive in the group.

They were right to some extent, because while they made progress and managed to buy the luxurious mansions that decorate the avenue, I still live in the old little house that used to be my mother’s. That must be the reason why I like visiting them once in a while, to play with their things, as they sleep.

Read the Spanish version