Tuesday, May 31, 2005

One Peso Redemption.

Picture this: you are late, hungry, a little hung over and you have no option but to jaunt over to the bank (activity which you have been putting off for days because of more pressing matters), you struggle for a place to park, grab the pertinent documents including ID and proceed to the entrance of the bank.
There is a woman sitting outside, seudo nun like attire: long white socks, patent white leather shoes, long gray skirt and a white knit sweater, but this is not what really strikes you; what stands out is the unnaturally small head protruding from the neck of the sweater. Her hair is black long and wavy, but it looks too black even for a child and it seems not to fit her face which, if I didn't know better looks like a cadavers, in the first state of decomposition. You can see in her face a life long struggle, her wrinkles ebb deep into her face making it difficult to even make out her eye cavities; if it were not for those small black eyes scanning the side walk.
"Give me a peso, May Christ keep you in his heart" She sqacks this with no hesitation, to no one in particular, over and over. You can hear her recite this from afar in a deep yet certainly not quiet monotone voice, over and over to a point where you cant really make out if she is threatening "May Christ keep you in his heart; gamma a peso" or vice versa.
You can immediately realize why she hasn't been asked off the sidewalk like other beggars, anybody in their right mind would be terrified of crossing a word with this woman, most are so scarred that they fumble in their pockets or purses, accelerating their stride; I imagine in the hope of receiving a quick sidewalk one peso redemption, or some sort of holy cleansing for being in the inmediate vicinity (God forbid in direct contact) to this evil capitalistic, remorse monger.
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