Poesia E Selvajaria

waiting at the doctor’s. a television in the waiting room, tuned to Odyssey channel, if I’m not mistaken. it was the odyssey of Houdini, the magician. fascinating. a man who likes to shackle, imprison, chain, gag, incarcerate, handcuff (especially handcuff ) himself and to completely disappear under the water. to escape is the main idea in his life. to escape. to escape from. the american people certainly had fun watching him fooling the police by using his tricks, but the narrators of the program underlined the special joy that certain peoples (such as the german people, who lived under a dictatorship at the time) had from seeing him heading to the police head-quarters asking, as a special favour, to be handcuffed and jailed, only to ridicule the cops by immediately releasing himself from all handcuffs and bars that could ever be thought of. mr. Houdini was obsessed by publicity. he only visited police stations accompanied by a legion of reporters. and he did his tricks facing crowds, like the one in which he was hanging upside-down from the top of a skyscraper, wearing a straitjacket. they had come to watch him die, he said.
another waiting. this time at the bus stop. I am one of those people who never take buses, never wait for public transportation. I have my own transportation. but today I waited at the bus stop. and I stopped. the stop is not just the bus’, it is also the people’s. and to stop, nowadays, is a very pleasant thing. having to stop. people who have their own transportation never have a reason to stop. I stopped and I looked at the street. it can be very tiresome to look at a street, things constantly passing by your eyes, a ceaseless movement that insists on telling us nothing. so I decided to stare, trying not to be distracted by useless information, to see if I could see something. in front of the bus stop there was a tiny space between two buildings which allowed me to look at the stars. I stared at them, still. I know that for other people it must be a little odd to see someone still, staring, I myself would find it odd. but why looking at everything, if you don’t see a thing ?

- Vera Mantero