I take the first taxi of September, which is like the first taxi of my life. In this month when the course starts, everything is brand new.
“You look dark,” the driver told me.
“I am walking,” I reply.
It’s clear he wants to start a conversation and hopes I can help him a bit.
“You, on the other hand, are white,” I point out.
I don’t believe in rest. I worked all summer.
– So are you okay?
-Perfectly. I refuse to participate in the summer chimera, which brings great unhappiness to both those who can and those who cannot.
“I say yes.
“I’ve been on both sides,” he adds as he gets to work.
-Only two sides? -asked.
-Maybe there’s more, that’s all I know and the other.
-How about the other one?
– It’s the same. The only difference is that you can see the insides and the seams.
-What does it mean?
-The matter is recognizable and made of air. On the other hand, even concrete, no matter how heavy, is pure smoke. I realized that life is pure smoke from a taxi.
-Do you spend a lot of time on the other side?
-I come and go according to the mood.
-And which side are you on now, there or here?
– Same as you over there.
The truth is that I had just arrived in Madrid, where I usually live, and had an unreal hallucinatory feeling. Everything seemed fluid, incoherent, and pure fiction. delirium.
“Well, I was going to a business meeting,” I said.
“Go,” the taxi driver tells me, “but don’t believe anything you hear.
I don’t believe etc.