"Are you sure you'll be able to fly in that plane?" asked Claire, "It doesn't even have wings!"
"Of course we will," replied the Big Bear, "most of the flying is in the wishing!"
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2024 José Pereira Torrejón. All rights reserved. No part of the content of
this blog may be distributed, published or reproduced without prior
authorization from the author.
To die, to sleep—
No more—and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep—
To sleep—perchance to dream.
Hamlet (1602) William Shakespeare,
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Photo: the attic bedroom of a dolls house made by a ten-years-old girl and his dad, circa 1914. From my own collection.
©
2024 José Pereira Torrejón. All rights reserved. No part of the content of
this blog may be distributed, published or reproduced without prior
authorization from the author.
Montevideo, Uruguay, 1950.
A cab travels through a cold and rainy night in the capital city. It's July, which means winter in the southern hemisphere.
The lady in the backseat sits silently as the trusty Ford Pilot pierces the darkness which envelops it like a giant cloak. Soon it will reach its destination, and after that, it will be back to "patrolling" the streets in search of new customers.
It's winter in Montevideo, and the nights are cold. But the cabby has a glimmer of hope: his country is doing well in the world championship football taking place in neighboring Brazil. If only... Could it be? Is a miracle in the making? Suddenly he spots somebody signaling him to stop. The poor man is soaked! Another passenger, another trip. Another reverie.
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©
2024 José Pereira Torrejón. All rights reserved. No part of the content of
this blog may be distributed, published or reproduced without prior
authorization from the author.
