The plan was to go to Tigre, a town where porteños go to escape Buenos Aires. I could use a little escape myself. My shadows have been haunting me relentlessly, and I could really hide for a while.
I got on the train at Retiro, and ran for it with determination just to re-enact a scene of travel and adventure. A little play acting was neccessary.
Grey Jenga blocks of apartments started melting into the gray skies just outside the windows, replaced by short, wide houses. Some were even pretty.
We were halfway to Tigre. The little red light started blinking at San Isidro. I have heard about San Isidro being an adequate place to spend a day.
Why not? An unexpected stop could catch my shadows off guard, and they may lose their trail.
And so it began, a day of wandering on foot. How long has it been since I’ve walked this much?
Walk, snap, walk.
With the shadows left behind, the world was a happy gloomy place. Dark, but with a slight hint of hope.
There were mansions, where people had spent a lot of money on. And there were interesting houses, where people had spent a lot of time on. In one of the houses lived a famous person who is now dead. If you become famous, people will pay money to see your house when you’re dead.
I stumbled on to an artist’s studio. Wild and macabre, it was rather out of place in this stately upscale neighbourhood.
” You’re here by yourself?” ,she asked me.
“She’s here by herself. Wow.”, she told him.
It was a strange comment, since her art was more interesting than me being there by myself. Besides, I didn’t know if I had lost my shadows, so I wasn’t sure if I was really alone. It was good, anyhow, that she didn’t see them, or it would have been awkward.
Night fell and the shadows disappeared. Were they merely hiding in the dark, as I had hid in the light?
