The dawn of any day

Airton Souza de Oliveira

I wake up, on that sordid morning, the cold sidewalk, in the open, scares me. I know it’s anytime, but I lack the accuracy of them. I confess that it is not just the exactness of the times that are absent from myself. I do not like innocence, because dreams left desperate in flight. Then I wake up, with reeling thinking. The stomach, empty, complains and declaims the same absence. Burning and disgusting breath brings disgust to the whole body. The dirty eyes ask in silence for water to be able to remain open, while the pupils shrink in the light of the day that falls slightly on the city totally unknown to me.
To tell you the truth, I know little about this space that welcomes me and seems to consume me happily every day. So, I decide to get up and frantically seek what the stomach wants and desires. But the skeletal body decides not to obey the thought. So, I sit on the cold floor that disguised resting on me last night and without
return.
Glimpsing the area surrounding the space, I can see around me, houses, closed doors and windows, silence. The souls that inhabit each one seem to sleep drowsily and without commitment.
In the sky, the shy sun appears quiet and without strength.
I get up, because it is necessary. My commitment is to hunger that tightens my body and to this day when I want to survive. However, I already have a right way to go, as it has always been so. My destination is the dumps on the street on the left side that I have been sleeping in these last few days. Your name, I don’t know. But, she looks familiar to me. Every sidewalk, every hole, color and every soul that roams there, are like my old relatives.
On my journey, slow and calculated strides, looking closely at all movements. Care must always be taken.
Another day, passing by men in everyday conversation, to hear about such capitalism. And now, looking at all these houses, I imagine, that is what they call capitalism. Or maybe it’s the trash that feeds me every day? Do not know! It must be both. The well-decorated houses and the garbage outside. I can even admire the houses and their ornaments, but the most important thing for me is the garbage they produce day after day.
I continue on my journey, it is necessary. The stomach tightens the desire and punches me, in the hopeful spring.
Head down, but with a watchful eye, I go on traveling like a successful hiker, I disguise my dirty and smelly clothes, it is necessary, because there is no greater pain to feel than those condemning looks telling me things and more things in their thoughts, which the eyes cannot pretend.
I walk a few meters, I can already smell that natural smell of garbage and also of the rest of the food from who knows, from the night before. I can feel them calling me in a soft voice.
I reach the trash can, which is actually quite wide. So, I stick my head inside it and collect the crumbs that have been used for me and for the pigeons that have been flying nearby for hours.
I sit on the sidewalk and share the bread without the wine. The smell is good. It is a shattered fragment of pizza, remnants of rice and beans, pieces of the most varied fruits, a strange business that I do not venture to name and still a huge variety of food scraps
that made the happiness of other men the day before, for me, a true Greek feast.
Life is not all that bad, and I am having fun, eating to survive and feeding the pigeons that land near me.
I think of that capitalism that I heard about one of these days that I don’t exactly remember. So capitalism must be that, me eating leftovers and the pigeons scraping crumbs from the leftovers.

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