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Antonio.

Antonio had eighty years. He lived alone in a small apartment. He had no wife, and that this had died some time ago.

not friends, who like his wife he was going to over the years. His two children almost never came to visit. Every now and then and when I phoned agreed.

Antonio sometimes sit in a seat for air or smoke a cigarette as he watched the green plants. Others stayed at home watching TV or listening to tango on the radio. No hurry whatsoever. Since I was retired and not part of trabajaba.Buena day also was spent remembering. I thought of Martha, his wife, which has more than five years without seeing her. In the times of her boyfriend while still going to look around the house with his old Fiat 600 to make a film on Friday in which married and went to dinner with her and a couple of friends to a pizza of the Centre, trip to Cordoba were doing something more than a decade and saw snow for the first time.

images also came to him his old home. Where he still lived with Martha, his two sons and a dog they had. When almost every Sunday roasts for the whole family together with their parents and of his wife. Where they brought their children to play a primary playmate and he always got jokes. Or how many times in high school and he helped them with homework.

remembered his friends. With whom was an old bar that was in Paternal and stayed long hours talking around a bit. Politics, football, women, etc.. When I went to several of them to the racetrack or evenings with Jose and Carlos took the tram to go to court. Since they like him were from San Lorenzo.

And within those thoughts could not miss their parents. The morning that accompanied his mother to buy bread, where the baker to be a good boy always gave her a croissant. The times I felt bad and she pulled back. He saw his father. A robust man worker. Most of the day locked in his hardware store. But most of Friday while returning from work surprised him with ice cream or candy.

However this did not exist. It was part of a past that was gone. Now he was sitting in a chair just thinking and remembering those old days. In a semi-dark room. With a shutter that had broken and did not let enough light to enter. With a roof moisture shelled and stained urgently needed painting. With the dust build up would not stop the spots of a pale wood floor.

He was a kind of exile. That was a time that was totally foreign. I had to talk to or somewhere to go. His only duties were to buy food, medicine, collecting retirement or pay odd tax.

One afternoon as he walked he felt a strange wind. Bringing him voices of friends and family who had already dead. To mourn and heard barking at his old dog who was not. Also starting to hear that these shouted phrases like "do not stand alone, you'll get sick", "come with us we love you", "long time no see you, we miss you." But Antonio kept walking. The gusts were increasing steadily. He blew the beret on his head. His clothes had to be danced and goggles in his pocket. If you are not making it impossible to keep your eyes open. Although this did not stop. Although sometimes grab some fence or column to avoid falling.

But finally the wind was stronger. Ended pulling the handle of a door where he had held and dragged him several feet furiously until it crashed into a wall. Then his body was motionless with eyes closed lying on the ground. The blasts stopped automatically.

After a while Antonio awoke. But I was not there on the sidewalk in front of this wall where he had been shot. But were in another world had ever seen but it was much more familiar. Where he was reunited with his wife. Caress her, kiss her, invite her to the movies. Go with your friends on the court or a drink in a bar. Back to playing with his dog, to roast accompany her mother to the bakery or sweets to be surprised with his father brought him to come home from work.