El Rincón de Gabo

Hello? Is there anybody in there?
(Pink Floyd).

Are you cool dudes? - Said the dusty Mr. Sheridan (I decided to call him) while his niece laughed in the background. I study their faces with a cold, sober look trying to find the history behind those ragged clothes that serve as an element for most comments. I watch his pride fall and drag through the pavement, and him trying to forget that he once had a chance to trade places and be the one who passed on the good deed. His niece: a spiteful instrument of many wrong places and choices now marked on her face which draws a map of intense feelings, not necessarily pittiful, but sorrow. For every situation, a reaction. My decision, after this encounter, was... well, you're reading it. Limit myself to publish what might be what never happened.