THE CLOWN

Fuente
He was not a happy clown - like those in children's songs - but he was not a sad clown either - like those in adult songs. He was simply a real-life clown. And because he was so real, his life was full of chiaroscuros, joys and sadness that happened each other.

That day I waited on the subway platform for the next train to arrive.

He felt a little tired and therefore instead of placing himself - like the great majority - just behind the yellow strip to secure a position in the car, he remained with his back against the wall.

He wore very dark glasses that hid his eyes. I do not know why he wore glasses so dark, but he wore them without caring that I did not know why. Overall, he was the protagonist of the story and I, simply, the writer who tried to get a good story.

He turned his head slightly to where I was and a smile was scarcely drawn on his lips. The creature in front of the creator. or the one created in front of the creator ... Epa, I had not created him! He was real. Remember? What I had to create was history.

He was a clown ... but he was not dressed as a clown by any means. He dressed normally. But he was a clown and I knew it and he was not unaware that I knew it. The train arrived and among the squeezes managed to board it. There were many struggles at that time between those who struggled to get out and those who struggled to enter. All enlivened by the voice of the loudspeaker with the routine "Let out is to enter before" that nobody took care of in Caracas, except in the Capitolio Station and to top it all during peak hours - although now that I remember, in Capitolio all the hours were Rush hours-.

I did not manage to climb - the clown did. I could not follow him, nor observe him, nor interview him. In fact I did not even manage to board the train and the subway started with my clown and with my unfinished story and I chose to leave the station and take the bus home.