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_ On a tiny bus that resembles a domestic living room, people are sitting on a circle;
watching each other and the time passing by before the engine starts.
Two friends enter; they occupy the last two empty seats.
A boy and a girl around their sweet sixteens.
She has bright pink hair, he grows them long around the face.
The moment they make themselves comfortable, they both reveal -simultaneously- a small mirror from each backpack.
And they start touching their hair with brisk, synchronized moves,
as if this is the only meaning left on this world.
Or at least, on this bus.
_ Saturday morning.
You walk through the touristic masses as if cutting a thick, foamy piece of white pudding.
Somewhere near the spanish square two clochards are standing in front of the spanish embassy.
They keep their belongings for the day into two xl paperbags – a chanel and a sportstaff, respectively.
_ Outside of a famous, suburban ice-cream store, early afternoon.
Dozens of persons support themselves on parked cars,
they are blocking the way of passers-by,
they are covering the whole city block.
Babies on pink chicco trolleys, in-love couples close to each other, girlie gatherings.
They all expose their tongues according to a repetitive pace; licking.
A strawberry ball has recently met the ground, leaving a cartoon-like ‘splash’ echo behind.
