I came across a needle on the street the other day. Man, you’ve finally adjusted to something, I told him. Yes, yes, he finally answered me cheerfully and as weakly as ever. There was no place for pins on terraces or bars, hotels, highways and beaches, the news told us this Easter. News and eyes.
Where were you then, I say to the needle. Well, still, stay calm in an inner town that has doubled its population, he replies. The big question I ask myself and keep the needle in is what is left empty so that everything is full. Houses will remain empty. And I guess places without beaches and parades. I mean, Kansas. Although it has long given the impression that there are many people everywhere, life goes on and in some places the needle snaps back into place. Pins, no. Pim can never go anywhere as a family. They don’t fit. Although if something fits someone, the normal thing is to say that none of them fit. Needle thinks of going into exile, there are countries where it fits.
The badge bids me a somewhat solemn farewell, and I see him walking, avoiding the entrance to the main street of the city, which is crowded at this time of the afternoon and despite the presence of cars, bicycles, scooters, motorcyclists, pedestrians. No needles are seen on terraces and borders. Where does the mismatched pin go? Pins are always on the diet. The pin is the mischievous cousin of the safety pin. Bold pins seep into parties where they can’t be attached to a dress or jacket. They fit in there, but even though they’re a party, they have to keep working, because the dress or jacket holds the sleeves or collars that would have remained ripped, torn, torn without them. No one can find a needle; no one calls him.
Cities breathe and calm down a bit after Holy Week, but the needle has already surrendered and knows it won’t fit in the fair, the beach, the summer, or the festivities any time soon. Even at a party of cheese or tortilla, goat or carrot. There are burials where the needle does not fit and therefore the needle cannot say goodbye to its owner. You won’t be liked very much if a badge is put on your funeral. It is never the needle that marks the absence of someone else. When our hesitation betrayed us, the teacher would say to us, “You pinned him.” Then we inserted needles: they shined a light on our innocence and fueled the curiosity of our future. Now everything is different. Lapel pins take everything to heart. In some South American countries, this item is called brooch, which is a good pin.