White and black, black and white

They said she was weird. Certainly not normal," she thought silently as she gazed out to sea. The day had dawned clear. The blue of the sky was added to the blue of the ocean waters. Alone in her favorite moment, she reflected on what was to come. It was no longer Sunday. The week was rising up in front of her, imposing on her the vision of daily challenges. She felt tired. Would she be able to bear all that was to come? Somehow she knew she could. After all, her life had been made up of the succession of problems, as well as their unorthodox solutions. Yes, she was a person who solved life's demands in unusual ways. At least that's what she thought about herself. The thing is, nothing in this world is unique. There is no creativity, even divine, that does not replicate what has been done before. If God designed the world, he had certainly resorted in part to downloading resources from some celestial image bank. To approach that which in the vision of most was supreme, also placed her in a position of superiority over the mortals who sleepwalked around her. She knew that in some way she was also part of that senseless tribe. She pretended not to know. She stood up, shaking the sand that stuck to her skinny buttocks. She turns and walks toward the sidewalk. She felt restless. With her right index finger she presses the red button on the metal pole. The traffic light closes for the cars, allowing her to walk briskly across the crosswalk to the opposite side of the street. She stops in front of a shop window where she can see herself in the reflection of the recently cleaned glass. She straightens her disheveled hair. She twirls on her own axis stopping in an unusual pose to people's antagonistic eyes. She smiles. She walks unsteadily, always stepping on the cobblestones. Like a child, she revels in the alternation between black and white, sometimes between white and black. She mumbles something to her inner self. She knew how to talk to herself. She was extroverted for the things of the world. Retracted for the matters of the soul. Sometimes she doubted she had one. Was she an artifact of nature set in motion to cause confusion? No, she didn't like mess. Sometimes she did, but in those moments she knew she was drunk. Either by drink or by life. She liked to follow her course, to walk aimlessly through the little space she could fit in. It wasn't always, but sometimes she broke the rules and entered an establishment without any sense of direction and was soon repelled by strong arms and translucent mouths. Crazy, they said. She laughed. You know nothing, poor comrades. She ran her hand over her forehead, already glossy from the burning sun. She liked living there. Quiet neighborhood despite the unpleasantness. After all, who never had a bad day? The streets were crowded. Blacks and whites, whites and blacks going their usual ways. Poor souls - I thought. Sometimes I screamed. Grown children who know nothing of life in fact. They live the illusion of the future. Many never even see tomorrow. This is the inevitable cycle of life," he thought. Hunger was beating. He had to fill his stomach to face the day. She liked to eat at the corner of the Atlantic Avenue. Good, plentiful food, she knew. Then I'll see what luck has in store for me," she shouted to the world in front of her. She walked nonchalantly. Differently from the others that ran along her walk. She was in no hurry. She knew that in her dancing step she would arrive. Some honked their horns as they noticed her spectacular image. Others laughed at her shamelessness. Many sidestepped. Few showed mercy. She leaned on a pole sharing the space with the pamphlets that had been pasted on it. I'll bring your loved one back in thirty days," she said to those who passed by. She had fun. She knew little about the places beyond the neighborhood. She had long since settled in those parts. Her memory still held some unclear images of a past, but what filled her was her daily present. Ah, the future doesn't even exist. She squats down and starts to wallow in the bags piled up on that corner. Before long she finds what she was looking for. Happiness stains her face. She didn't know why the others didn't eat the toast. It must have been their luck, or their very full bellies. She sat down on the guide and watched the flocks of vultures and seagulls as she ate her breakfast. White and black, black and white.