I have met a wonderful friend named Fede
Last Sunday afternoon we went out driving
Listening to Keane
And drinking the sun
It was a wonderful experience to see Rosario
Going 35 miles an hour
through the speckled windshield
It was a completely different perspective
Than walking, which is the only other way I can travel in this city
Sunday afternoons are different in Rosario.
All of the shops are closed
People gather together in groups of friends and family to drink Mate
and take their kids to the park
No one is alone
And the downtown, which is usually hustling and bustling every which way
Is strangely silent
We drove everywhere
To the suburbs, down by the river, to the outskirts of the shopping center
The traffic was crazy, especially by the river
It felt like the whole city drove to spend the afternoon in the little piece of nature the city has
“On Sundays people don’t know what to do with themselves,”Fede said, as he patiently stopped for mobs of people to cross the street, “So they just get together and sit around.”
He was right
People in every which way sitting on the grass, playing with their dogs, playing soccer, watching street performers, smoking, playing guitar, selling jewelry.
Fede’s comments always stick with me
Because although they tend to be a little anti-social
They’re also very introspective and wise
He sees things a little differently
And together, we discuss people and culture in it’s different forms
As we drive and drive with no ending destination
I’m reading the visual text of the city
The architecture, the sporadic trees, the graffiti, the expressions on faces of people walking
I’m taking pictures of everything I see
Not just the impressive things
But the space in between
Pictures of the real Rosario
The interesting things
And the not interesting things
Capturing tiny moments of the stuff no one pays attention to
Streets and lights and broken beer bottles
And I start to realize that the “unimportant” things
are so beautiful
Not trying to be anything special
Just being
Whether any one sees or not
Tiny moments of reality that we usually just dismiss
But when we actually look, the beauty awaits
The small things really are the big things
The unimportant really is the most important
[slideshow]
Reblogged this on Argentina Blog.
I look forward to your poems. You are experiencing Rosario through the eye of a poet, which is a special way of seeing and being. You are right that the things that often seem unimportant can be very beautiful. Michele