She was travelling on her way to a music concert with
her friends and she saw him there, standing next to the bus driver, giving
instructions. His Indian nose, his long dark hair. She felt her heart beating.
The groups were on stage and it was really cold. The
huge pavilion was nearly empty. Getting bored or dancing? Dancing as is nobody
is watching.
He approached her from behind and danced together for
a minute… And then their lips joined on instinct.
She felt a thunder jolt inside.
She never saw him again but she has never ever felt
cold again.
Hace poco nos dejó mi amigo Jose Luis, aquel indio indomable que conocí en mi juventud. Buscando unas fotos antiguas se me ocurrió escribir un microrelato sobre el día que lo conocí, en un autobús de Barcelona a Gerona. El era organizador de conciertos punk (Cuc Sonat) y mis amigos de aquel entonces eran músicos.
ResponderEliminarAsí que la historia es cierta... aunque no es verdad que no lo volví a ver!
Algo se deheló en mi interior al entrar en contacto con este ser tan especial que fue y que es... aunque ya no esté sobre el planeta Tierra.