Returning home on Sunday at dawn, alongside a broad avenue of the southern suburbs of Buenos Aires, there were 2 dogs.
One was laid there, dead; and the other, big and black, was close to his dead mate.
I stopped my walk, and stayed standing there, watching them.
The cars ran by Pavon avenue, the first sun rays of a hot February dawn reflected fire on the speedy windshields.
The black dog didn't stop staring into my eye...his eyes had rare red gleams of confusion and pain.
The dog was standing there, like a human could stay aside a beloved dead one in a funeral...
A funeral.
I turned to walk again.
To walk away from there.
I felt that red stare following me, stuck, fixed in me; that stare was frightening and tremendous, and i didn't dare to watch it again.
That was not the stare of an animal. It was something else...
And it was asking me something that i couldn't answer.
One was laid there, dead; and the other, big and black, was close to his dead mate.
I stopped my walk, and stayed standing there, watching them.
The cars ran by Pavon avenue, the first sun rays of a hot February dawn reflected fire on the speedy windshields.
The black dog didn't stop staring into my eye...his eyes had rare red gleams of confusion and pain.
The dog was standing there, like a human could stay aside a beloved dead one in a funeral...
A funeral.
I turned to walk again.
To walk away from there.
I felt that red stare following me, stuck, fixed in me; that stare was frightening and tremendous, and i didn't dare to watch it again.
That was not the stare of an animal. It was something else...
And it was asking me something that i couldn't answer.
.
