Esco perhaps because spring has arrived. I go out because I can not bear to remain locked in the house. I go out because I want to be alone with myself, and I'm good. I go out because I want to. And the way to inertia. I put my hands in his pockets. Although no longer officially winter, I still chilly hands. Inevitably, I look for blue and white package. I can not find it. Neither in his pants, or in the lifejacket. That there are almost mathematical when needed. Distance between the tall houses, all identical. Built on an elevated level compared to that of the city. Walk around gives a strange feeling that I know by heart. I'm going to the center, perhaps. It begins to raise a breeze. For a split second I can imagine the smell of summer. Then replaced, however, by another unexpected scent. I raise my head instinctively. Someone is cooking the sauce. Tomato, onion, basil. For a little while I can hear every single flavor. I stop. But it's too late. The wind has already taken away from them. Surplus not for long with the music in my ears. I mind the local distances. Soon I will be in the busy boulevard that divides the old from the suburb. Instinctively, I take a cap, right. The music does not monopolize more than my hearing. Keep walking, just as before. There is no other noise except that of my footsteps. I want to listen to my shoes to beat on hard asphalt. And it happens again. Another gust of fragrance of red sauce. Tens of meters below. This takes even less time than before. A few seconds and has already dissolved in the air. I can not help but be hungry. I look forward to my i-Pod. 17:47. For a second it seems strange that at this time there may already be someone who prepares food. Then my mind turns inevitably to another thought. Food. I'm hungry. Maybe that's why I'm going right to the center, there will find something. I'm about to fall into temptation again, rummaging in his pockets, looking for a poor cigarette. Help me to turn off hunger and keep walking without the heavy feet. I curse a woman in the street, turn back. Does not move and I have to radically change course to avoid it. Smoking. I stop as commanded by a superior force. I take a deep breath. I take everything I can. Passive, but better than nothing. Not quite what I needed here, but I was still hungry. I have no idea where to go and I do not want to search. The clock of a store marks the six and a quarter past. Yet the sky is almost clear again. Turn towards the avenue of the station. Many bus stops, know them by heart. In particular, a. His. And there, for the third time, I smell a kidnapping. It is not gravy, and not from the upper floors, but an open door to my height. The sign on the wall says Doner Kebap. It 'just what I need. While going towards the entrance, I remember the winter. When my dinner was often a sandwich of them. I miss the darkness of the six, the smell of gas in the cold bus. But decided to settle for this kebab, although spring.
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