Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 19, 2019, 06:18:14 AM
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length
This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti

Saturday-Homesick



Word of the Day
Pages: [1]
  Print  
Author Topic: Flag  (Read 122 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
leowriter
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 61


View Profile
« on: July 04, 2019, 04:49:03 PM »

The flag of Mexico waved very strong on that highway, from the taxi I could see it, it was impossible not to see it ... although the taxi was driving fast, it was impossible not to see it. One on my right side, up on the pole, the other on my left side, in the middle of the Chapultepec forest. The immense green mass of trees and that flag waving in the middle. The other day It was not in the square, the cold and dry brown concrete seemed to miss it. Still we could see the cathedral, standing like an elegant old lady. Someone was flying a multi-colored kite, it had the shape of an icarus. Its fabrics also played with the wind, making that characteristic sound. Then - Watch out! - That man shouted, the white thread came like an arrow directly to us.
I remember when I practiced Kitesurfing on the beaches of Venezuela, you could feel the constant wind like a motor running, although the water was so brown that it could be confused with the sand, only that you could see small white waves formed on the surface by the amount of breeze shaping them. If you were in the cabin, you had to pull that little wooden door with great strenght, it looked more like a sheet of cardboard. It could barely hold itself with the hinges on the wall. If you let go, the door hit the frame hard, pushed by the wind... you felt that all that was going to disarm at any minute. They were cabins made for kitesurfers, who were not interested in tourism in the least. They just wanted to be carried by the wind on the water, to be one of those colored spots carried by a huge comet, to ride on the flying idea of ​​freedom, with a strong taste of salt in the mouth, the burning in the eyes, the blue horizon in the gaze, forgetting the world and its screams, presidents on a television screen, dressed in formal suits, often wearing hypocrisy, as smelly as a container overflowing with garbage. Sad but true. Sometimes we go as people but we end up being flies in the middle of a giant pile of shit.
Logged
Pages: [1]
  Print  
 
Jump to: