Retiro

I see old men bent forward on benches, spitting out seeds from crumpled mouths, leaning on wooden sticks.

I see people lying in uncut grass: some of them read, others just sunbathe – one man sleeps, wheezing with each deep breath.

I see young boys waving sticks, playfully fighting, and couples sitting on stone steps, whispering about something excitedly.

I see men plucking strings, their fingers plastered, their heads bowed, and women cradling blankets that will not stop crying.

I see a girl scuffing her shoes on the dusty floor; her parents don’t notice – her parents don’t care: shoes are not what trouble them.

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