ENGLIS VERSIÓN
The train was already on the move, but I was left with a strange feeling inside. A feeling that something wasn't right, and the feeling came back to my mind. Or rather. My mind brought the scene back to me.
And I saw again the face of the man standing in the middle of the stairs of the car, divided in two by a rusty iron handrail.
I must have looked at his face with a shiny black beard and his head covered by a canvas hat that covered his ears, while his eyes, a bit wild and lost in indesicion, looked into the void, above those who were still to get into the car.
As the locomotive was about to start, some, including that woman dressed in hysterics, said in unison: "Look, he got off, he got off! Followed by laughter more incapacitated than that unfortunate man.
As the train sped along, my ears echoed with the whipping words of the woman on the man's back: "Get off! Get off! Hey, what a stink! Get off, you pig! And the man got off.
Well! I asked myself when I saw that I mentally took the place of that unhappy man in a train bagon about to start moving, and harassed by the social history of people cleanly dressed and perhaps smeared with perfumes and deodorants on a Monday morning to go to work or for a walk_ And this man where will he end up at this time of the morning!
What course will his dislocated head, his mind that in some conscious corner must be keeping some of those words that even the most demented denigrate?
I should not have looked at his face!
I saw that this being was not totally balanced, but I felt him lost, cornered by those who shouted at him, but more by those who, like me, kept silent.
Or those who laughed. And even more, by those who covered their noses so as not to smell their own social filth. I suddenly found myself scared and stinking for who knows how many reasons, but also in no man's land, perhaps without a penny in my pocket and with the early morning hunger hitting the walls of my stomach.
And like that unhinged man (more cornered than unhinged) I thought: and now where do I go with my life and my stench that I do not meet the same society as the one that expelled me from the train carriage in which I have the right to travel, despite my defects, my limitations, and my stench?
The locomotive brakes a little more abruptly than usual at the next stop. I was thrown off balance a little, and almost fell to the ground, while a masked chuckle mingled with the screeching of the massive iron wheels of the car in which I was traveling, and the act brought me back to reality,
In a matter of seconds I was about to be one more victim of social stupidity, and I remembered again the man with a shiny black beard, with a canvas hat covering his ears. Staring blankly into the void and cornered by his peers.
My hands clung to the tube of the gangway, and together with the train I continued the trip.
celular
