I have a new neighbor. I do not know who he is, I've never seen, I do not know. I only know that the house was rebuilt of my former neighbors, who somehow strange. Strange you ask for onions, you ask for bread, sugar and ask them to request that we keep the ice cream because they have no space in your cooler full of ice cream. We always had room to spare. None of this will be possible again because the new neighbor, the stranger, so increased the size of the wall that separates the two houses that is now impossible to communicate with them. Put a hideous mole impossible bricks for communion.
To make matters worse, enlarged also the wall that separates it from its other neighbors and threw the fence facing the street to put a wall 2.5 meters high, a front abhorrent to any home. In short, the type was isolated. Those who know him (my mom, who spoke with him by phone a few times), say that the subject is sharp, a few words and says (pretends) to be very busy. His wife, however, exists but is not any grace known so far. It is not known if he speaks, eats, thinks, walks or crawls. Is to be known.
We who are foul-mouthed by nature, we speculate about the things that this guy wants to hide behind the enormity of its walls. "Domestic violence? Experiments with goats "kids? We shall never know, or at least some light will not have to stop this unfortunate remodel the house and to deign to live in their new home, they insist, would prefer to continue being the old home of my former neighbors. They asked for things, yes, but I paid the electric guitar's youngest daughter, gave me my T-favorite football team and sometimes I took the Metro. Every so often from home, leaving the ghostly sound of a piano. That also miss him.
As my new neighbor is an unknown subject, so far we have established interaction with intelligent life on the other side of the wall has been reduced to hear how the work-from-my-new-neighbor punga listen to music all pork to early risers hours, how to hammer the roof at 9 am on a Sunday or how they manage to move the shingles of our roof so that when a unexpected spring rain lashing at Santiago, the living room of my humble cave is full of water.
We have also seen soban spit while the batting, how to shoot the dog Chascón street who have adopted to look at how it is soaked in the rain and in the beautiful gesture of the week, give us the tiles they left over for us to cover ourselves holes that decorate our roof. In summary, the neighbor we are the custodians of their waste and the happy music listeners who listen to their employees waste. The thing obviously is not doing well, buddy. And if your wall someday I can, I'll see the faces and hope to avenge such humiliation.
0 comments:
Post a Comment