Feb 11 2011 The woman from my balcony

• Window view

  https://www.viajesalpasado.com/wp-content/uploads/Vistas-ventana.jpg

  The woman from my balcony is just a story I see from my window. A woman, like so many here, living on the street, keeping your belongings in a culvert and waiting for her life consumed. Took a year looking at what makes "women from my balcony".

• dolly woman

  https://www.viajesalpasado.com/wp-content/uploads/mujer-dolly.jpg

  The woman from my balcony is just a story I see from my window. A woman, like so many here, living on the street, keeping your belongings in a culvert and waiting for her life consumed. Took a year looking at what makes "women from my balcony".

I've been watching one year; Women from my balcony is a cry in the dark, a dance at the wrong time, a metal cabinet buried in the ground. I see it happen, with his long legs will look like banana, swinging his shoulders as if his body would hold up in wires. Sometimes she lies on the floor, staring, on her dress green. Is greater, I do not know how, but his face is drawn by time. She must be beautiful, much, because after his scarred face is a slender body and a sweet gesture, tender, that destroys even when it begins to fight the wind screaming in eternal drunkenness.

The woman from my balcony drinking without routines and times. When you drink your eyes darken and her lips tightened his chest drained. That is when she is seen wandering alone in his little world of sidewalks and smoke. Since I first saw a year ago, back in April 2010 when I first installed in this building in Sea Point, Cape Town, I note that your world is reduced to three or four blocks. Sleeping on the streets, many times in the bend of a large supermarket parking, until the sun was agitated face. A year ago he did with his inseparable friend, other small round woman who shared their time. Then, watched them every morning from my balcony on the sixth floor and draw up a culvert a comb and some clothes. Were arranged and combed the each other and began their day, with her hair pulled, maze and look. I remember one morning Natasa decided to give clothes and hours later we saw, presumidas, walking down the street looking in the mirror of a window with her hair wrapped in cloth. Both wore colorful clothes, gay, arm in arm.

The woman from my balcony drinking without routines and times. When you drink your eyes darken and her lips tightened his chest drained. That is when she is seen wandering alone in his little world of sidewalks and smoke.

But, Now when I returned in January from my balcony women wandering alone. It does the same streets, without his friend who, I, must swallow life. Sometimes I find her sitting next to another group of homeless people often sleep a block down, opposite the gas station, with hardly exchanged words with them. Dissect the dustbins in search of any remaining. Sometimes I see her dance, front window of a story agency, mirándo su cuerpo reflejado en el cristal. Sobrevive, intuit, of 200 edge (20 EUR) a South African friend told me that the Government gives to the poorest and almsgiving. It's funny, it never asks for money and always, if alcohol has not chewed throat, responds politely to a good morning or how you?The last time we talked about something she said "I'm fine now, gracias”, nice voice, standing while holding a sack of bones and muscles, attached to a wall, which dripped a small shadow.

The last time I've seen was last night. I was in the room and heard some screams. I looked out the balcony and saw her in a corner, front of the synagogue, screaming and waving arms. I moved to the corner, to have more perspective, and then I realized that talking to herself. He wore a garbage bag in hand. I guess going to sleep in the corner supermarket, as before, because in that direction I saw miss.

This post does not teach or reveal anything new. No need to come to South Africa to discover the misery in which millions of people, there is also scattered through the streets of the newly Europe. This post explains my routine for this country and speaks only of a woman from the balcony, mine, I see the.

During the ten months I have thought about it, I've even drawn their lives. I think he has a family that has not seen for years. I guess that was abandoned by her husband, probably died, and their children decided to go too far. I, I feel the energy in his eyes, he was happy and forgot how to be again. I will die soon, looks sick, weak. I do not mind giving money and spend it on alcohol, I think for her past and was eternal. I'm embarrassed to ask for his life, Armoured invade your solitude. however, before you go or I go, I wonder who the woman I see from my balcony (¿continuará?)