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¿Qué veo y qué siento?
Observo un mural realizado en un espacio público, en el cual se encuentran pintados un zorro y un gallo en un bosque. Ambos están uno frente al otro, mirándose fijamente en una conversación silenciosa.
A mí personalmente me fascina ver este tipo de arte callejero, sobre todo, cuando es tan bueno. Lo que me hace sentir esta obra es que me traslada a otra realidad, como si fuera un portal a otra dimensión llena de naturaleza, en contraste con la urbanidad de la ciudad.
El Zorro y el Gallo: No todo encuentro implica un conflicto
Entre la urbanidad y el ruido que suele caracterizar la ciudad, convivían un zorro y un gallo. Ambos fueron pintados con detalle, añadiendo un bosque de fondo que contrastaba de forma extraña con la metrópoli.
El zorro, de pelaje rojizo y mirada astuta, parecía respirar. Miraba con fijeza al gallo que tenía en frente, aunque no para comérselo, solo mostraba una curiosidad intensa. El gallo, con su cresta encendida, no se acobardaba ante aquellos ojos profundos que lo observaban, en cambio, le devolvía la mirada con dignidad y desafío, como si supiera que no era una presa para él.
Cada día los transeúntes pasaban frente a la pintura callejera sin notar la historia que se tejía en silencio. Solo unos pocos detallistas se detenían un instante para luego salir huyendo de miedo. Los únicos que se quedaban a ver eran los niños, cuya inocencia les permitía presenciar los diálogos que aparecían.
De esa forma supieron que el zorro se llamaba Silvestre y el gallo Aurelio. El primero había sido pintado con una hoja sobre la oreja y el segundo, en cambio, tenía detrás un resplandor que parecía un hermoso amanecer. Para la vista de todos, ambos estaban separados por la forma que tenía el “cuadrado” donde fueron pintados.
Pero los niños sabían que, en la vida real, esa “división” era ficticia y que ambos estaban juntos en el mundo paralelo donde convivían. Ese mundo creado por el artista callejero, el cual tuvo la ocurrencia de expresar su arte sin saber que había hecho mucho más que eso: construyó un portal a otro lugar en el espacio-tiempo por medio de su obra.
Pasaron los meses y llegó el invierno. Las temidas tormentas eléctricas comenzaron a sacudir la ciudad y una noche los rayos iluminaron el sitio donde se encontraba el arte como si fuera un altar. Por un momento pareció que las caras del zorro y el gallo se transformaban en expresiones de terror como si algo malo fuera a suceder.
Al día siguiente, cuando los niños pasaron a contemplar nuevamente los diálogos entre los dos animales, se percataron de que alguien había dejado una nota pegada en la base: “A veces, el encuentro más profundo ocurre en el silencio”. Ninguno entendió el sentido de esa frase y no le dieron mayor importancia…
Sin embargo, como si hubiesen conjurado algo después de leer aquella reflexión, la pintura empezó a desgastarse con rapidez. Se borró gran parte del cielo azul y las hojas se volvieron difusas. Lo único que se conservaba bien eran los ojos de Silvestre y Aurelio, los cuales seguían intactos como si el alma de la obra se resistiera al olvido.
O como si las criaturas del portal no quisieran irse del todo, manteniéndolo abierto de alguna manera para conectar los dos mundos. Porque en un mundo que marcha a toda velocidad, detenerse ante una pintura es un acto de resistencia. Y en esa pausa, quizás descubramos que no somos ni el zorro ni el gallo, sino el silencio entre ambos.
What do I see and what do I feel?
I observe a mural painted in a public space, depicting a fox and a rooster in a forest. They are facing each other, staring intently in a silent conversation.
Personally, I am fascinated by this type of street art, especially when it is so well done. This work transports me to another reality, as if it were a portal to another dimension filled with nature, in contrast to the urbanity of the city.
The Fox and the Rooster: Not every encounter involves conflict
Amidst the urbanity and noise that usually characterizes the city, a fox and a rooster lived side by side. Both were painted in detail, with a forest in the background that contrasted strangely with the metropolis.
The fox, with its reddish fur and cunning gaze, seemed to breathe. It stared intently at the rooster in front of it, not to eat it, but out of intense curiosity. The rooster, with its bright crest, was not intimidated by those deep eyes watching it. Instead, it returned the gaze with dignity and defiance, as if it knew it was not prey.
Every day, passersby walked past the street painting without noticing the story that was silently unfolding. Only a few observant people stopped for a moment and then ran away in fear. The only ones who stayed to watch were the children, whose innocence allowed them to witness the dialogues that appeared.
That's how they learned that the fox was named Silvestre and the rooster Aurelio. The former had been painted with a leaf over his ear, while the latter had a glow behind him that looked like a beautiful sunrise. To everyone's eyes, the two were separated by the shape of the “square” in which they were painted.
But the children knew that, in real life, this “division” was fictitious and that they were both together in the parallel world where they lived. This world was created by the street artist, who had the idea of expressing his art without knowing that he had done much more than that: he had built a portal to another place in space-time through his work.
Months passed and winter arrived. The dreaded thunderstorms began to shake the city, and one night the lightning illuminated the site where the art was located as if it were an altar. For a moment, it seemed as if the faces of the fox and the rooster were transforming into expressions of terror, as if something bad were about to happen.
The next day, when the children came to contemplate the dialogue between the two animals again, they noticed that someone had left a note stuck to the base: “Sometimes, the most profound encounters occur in silence.” None of them understood the meaning of that phrase and did not give it much importance...
However, as if they had conjured something after reading that reflection, the painting began to wear away quickly. Much of the blue sky was erased and the leaves became blurred. The only things that remained intact were the eyes of Silvestre and Aurelio, which remained untouched, as if the soul of the work resisted oblivion.
Or as if the creatures in the doorway did not want to leave completely, keeping it open somehow to connect the two worlds. Because in a world that moves at full speed, stopping in front of a painting is an act of resistance. And in that pause, we may discover that we are neither the fox nor the rooster, but the silence between them.
This was my entry for the @freewritehouse contest, hope you like it. As English is not my native language, I used the translator DeepL to make myself understood as well as possible 🙏. A big hello to all the community 🤗.
I would like to invite 
and 
to participate 🙌.
My instagram account:
@artevezo
Thanks for reading! ⭐
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