gave the impression of being a ritual. Or some sort of representation. However, privately, regardless of the eyes that looked, my eyes were to look at almost every detail of that perfect mechanics and sinuous.
It was 7 am and I expect to start working. My head full of thoughts, thoughts that I know only too well, but who return regularly to remind me of my situation. The swallows do not care about all this, and rightly too. They were then taken from their aerial ballet, chaotic and unpredictable. But I always had the feeling that there was a balance, the implication at every turn and flapping their wings. Were 8, or so I counted. In At times all move together, each curve was synchronized. Then they parted, either singly or in pairs. As a couple appeared that would create a race of speed and skill, he rested a moment on a wall and left again.
I did not see the details of their bodies, they were only small black spots that swirled tireless. Every now and then ran through some pigeon and I immediately noticed the difference that existed between the two birds. The flight of the pigeon was a simple and pragmatic way to go from one point to another, surely looking for food. Swallows but never exceeded the boundaries of their box. They flew for the simple sake of it, trying different combinations. There was a slot on the shutter of a window that draws them. We came in, always briefly, but went there regularly. So I was curious to understand things we were so special in that slot. Maybe some sort of curtain behind which to hide and then reappear. But this is the reality of wanting to force things, love him to name me to understand. In reality this was not a representation. There was no study behind. They flew there and stopped everything. They were heedless of them looked at me, my thoughts and my interpretations.
For this reason, I envied.
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