[ENGLISH] "Contrasts" [ORIGINAL]

   The young Paul trotted alone in the schoolyard while imagining luxuries with a smile on his face, trying to leave behind and forcefully, the problems that snatched his naivete by law.

His integration with the rest of the children did not go as good as he would like. He longed to have friends but at the same time, he was arising if he really long for friends that judged or behave towards him different for the sake of not wearing expensive clothes and shoes, for not having a video game console at home or by the fact of lunching Sicilian mortadella sándwich everyday.

It did not help to improve their friendly relations did not know what to say when each child, which professions of their parents were asked openly in class. The vast majority chest filled beseeched their recognized good or socially accepted fatherly professions. Whenever a course or class in asking this regard, he thought of his mother. A woman for whom he had full admiration beyond that she was covering their basic needs. And even working ten hours nightly in a factory with a meager salary, she came to pick him up at the school gate with a smile always.

He was an intelligent child, highlighting especially in mathematics and giving arguments to certain problems discussed in class, that let the teacher forcing a slight smile, and to the rest of the class, some with a sense of uncertainty and others with reject.

In fact, he would have been a seasoned student and he might have gotten away, academically speaking, if his personal circumstances had allowed it.

   The sound of the daily neighborhood, including the heat of some occasional dispute, was seeping through the peeling walls of his room. Paul watched one of the damp on the ceiling as he let his mind go blank then for trying to return to the act of concentrating on schoolworks.

His mother was busy around the house, leaving a notice of it with the sound of live and firm steps on a terrazzo and deteriorated floor over the years. He heard her come and go in haste, trying to leave everything arranged as possible for her child and for her missing husband, before going to work.

And for Paul, the man who sometimes saw home drunk and then disappearing for days without anyone knowing his whereabouts, was not his father. He did not know what profession he had, apart of putting his beloved mother sad, asking loudly with the using of derogatory adjectives, money for alcohol and slots. And if his mother was sad, Paul also.

His room door opened with a light noise due to the slack in the old hinges. His mother appeared before him smiling, as always, offering a milk glass and cookies for snack. Paul accepted willingly, not without wondering why her mother seemed now to carrying more makeup than usual on her pretty face. He noticed better while his mother deposited near him the cup and dish containing snack and peeked a slight darkening on the part of the right cheekbone that did not remember seeing it there a few days ago.

His mother took the small incursion into his room for return to rearrange what Paul had ordered just hours before to save his mother this job precisely. She smiled him again and with a pat on the hair and a kiss on the forehead, left his room.

Whenever his mother was near transmitting him that strange comfort feeling that seemed to born at belly, for expanding later, flooding with torrential peace the rest of his body. He was carried away by this feeling and shut his eyes with the mother's image still present inside the head.

The woman, with her fragile appearance of slender figure and graceful gait, showed him every day to be the person example in which reflected. Neither hardship nor storm, nor evil lurked near them, could penetrate the steely armor of her determination. Paul was sure it was her love for him the tool with which climbing the highest mountain. No matter what happened because she's always managed to bring them up. He knew that and loved her even more for it.

   The sound of the front door closing vehemently wich burst, pulled Paul out of his beautiful thoughts.He put all his senses in trying to clear the doubt that began to trouble him, unblinking, not breathing or swallowing, and it was then he heard the fury of the fray in the lounge. The unrest led to fear when he heard whimpering to his beloved mother and all her muscles tensed in a state of high alert. Fear gave way to courage when thinking that her mother could be suffering any harm, caused his borbotease rage, driving with hydraulic power his body into the living room.

Unfortunately there was little that a child could do to a man who tripled his stature, and even less if he was carrying a gun. He had no time to think, because the vision of his mother crying on the floor right in the path of the cannon, made him jump like a spring to try to interfere with that path and avoid evil, in a last attempt to regain his naivete.

The blasts reverberated in the neighborhood and were echo of the last tearfully embrace between Paul and his mother, knowing that, while they were together, everything would be fine.

   Dozens of candles at the school gate, lit up for days mourning of the people who came to lay flowers at the makeshift altar.

   Background, two radiant smiles captured on photographic paper. Together. Eternals.

<<The dense light seemed to keep afloat his being without corporeal boundaries while enveloped with a gentle touch reminiscent pleasant summer sun baths. He progressed slowly and effortlessly toward the place whence came the delicate heat inciting to abandon in his embrace.

The closer he was of that focus greater was the serenity feeling, calm, peace, carefree, comfort and happiness.

He was inescapable and inexplicably attracted to that dense and bright light that seemed to call him with an almost imperceptible siren. After a moment that could be or not an eternity, they melted in an amplified brightness where there had been no room for the slightest tinge of darkness.>>

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