to see the lights

From the news today, a story of historic irony and vindication. The Bolivian soldier, who shot Ernesto "Che" Guevarra forty years ago, was operated free of charge by Cuban doctors in Bolivia. In this way, Mario Teran -let us mention his name for history to be equally just against heroes and fools- regained his damaged eyesight, thanks to a medical welfare program set out by the Cuban government. Thus, after forty years, it seems that the Cuban revolution is finally extending to Bolivia, even for the benefit of one of its most symbolic enemies. The man who shot Che...

At his 77 maybe the time has come for him to see the lights.

And I just wish for his own sake that the lights he sees are equally beautiful to the ones I see the over the past weeks, as the working day comes to an end, the dusk falls a bit earlier and I slowly ride alongside Barceloneta beach. Work may be hard these last days (see previous posts) but working in such a place is always rewarding, even when you leave the lab at 10 pm, heading home with a mind full of doubts and bearing with the obvious worry that you simply have no life.
But as the early autumn breeze blows down your face, you turn left on Joan de Borbo and you see the moon coming up behind the roofs of Passeig Colom, stopping only for a moment to flirt with the statue of the Virgin de La Merce, you come to decide that it is still worth it. You slow down your pace, let the wind cool you down and take off your headphones so that you sense the sounds of the city flowing all around.

Then, you realize the night is still far too young and that since you have no life, you might as well spend your evening watching the one of others. You take a turn and head back to Barceloneta, riding like a little kid. You listen to the waves, while watching a couple of cute girls jogging, then you lift up your head far to the edge of the beach, the night has fallen and the lights are setting it ablaze.

And you wish Mario Teran would see lights like these.