They call them suicidal drivers, but the adjective is misapplied: they should be homicidal drivers.
All my understanding goes to the courage of those who voluntarily leave an existence that is unbearable for them.
But I also hate it if their cars crash and endanger the lives of those who intend to continue here.
Without going to self-destructive extremes, there are other dangerous people who constitute a risk to pedestrians.
They are the armies of ultracorps in permanent street romance with their phones.
They can run over walkers coming from the front thinking about the little birds.
The aggressors do not offer excuses or apologize.
They go about their business.
As everyone.
Although they more.
Recently two of those mobile drug addicts hit each other with a huge headbutt in the street.
And there were pious passers-by interested in his condition;
I don't.
I have enough trying to get around them.
I have also witnessed a host of people on scooters or bikes who were circulating with impunity like amphetamine buzzing along the sidewalks, with arrogant or environmentalist expressions, scaring the little old people.
Technology and poor education have created multitudes of toxic people.
And we can't imagine how far the robotic and massive addiction created by fucking devices can go.
And among the elderly, in a wheelchair or on crutches, accompanied or alone, you perceive watery, or resigned, or empty, or tired, or painful looks.
Also others pleased or serene.
The latter belong to people who must treasure many happy memories, the most solid refuge.
A friend tells me that her centenarian father let himself die when he went blind.
Since her retirement he dedicated himself entirely to reading, his greatest and most delayed pleasure.
She did it with a magnifying glass when her eyesight began to fail, but the final darkness arrived and she did not want to survive in those conditions.
He also decided to abandon himself a friend of mine whose only refuge was to continually watch movies in the solitude of his house.
He was a loser, I never knew him as partners or lovers, the helplessness took its toll on him even more in his old age, although the cinema served as an irreplaceable consolation.
The sight of him left him with pathos.
And he let himself die.
I imagine there are many old people who spend their long days and sleepless nights watching television.
It must be the only audience this one has left.
I don't know its substitute, the crowded universe of social networks.
Apparently they give an irreplaceable high.
I guess it's bad drugs.
Some of us will continue with literature and movies.
Stepping on the hostile streets as little as possible to avoid accidents.
And may luck continue to preserve our sight until the last day.
And let no one tell us about the political situation.
It sucks.
As almost always.
Although some people will claim to have been happy with the outbreak of revolutions, they all end badly.
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