The two sides of the same street 
The brave and fearless sunlight managed to beat the block of buildings and make them shine irregular cobblestones that lined that street. It was seven o'clock on a Saturday, and with the dawn, blew a chill wind and damp there.
opposite sidewalks - so suggesting a similar image Mirror - already clattered with the pulse of some steps. They were simple and made of cement, but capable of carrying dreams and longings for many yards, making off desires and destroy illusions.
not be any different that day.
Up the street, oblivious to any image or sound, was a beautiful girl but her face completely closed. Of pursed lips, shoulders slumped forward and steps so kids that made her look even smaller and more fragile.
She was an adult, very true. But the lines of his face testified that it was not the first time in which he suffered. The cause of his sorrow was one among many other obstacles in his life marked by furrows of pain and tears, through courage and resilience.
And she kept going.
the other side, in turn, was a happy boy. Jumping up and down the street whistling your favorite music. Barefoot and tennis in his left hand, laugh with her body and had an odd glow in her eyes. It was also quite young and seemed more humble than the other passersby.
she appeared to be fairly light.
Maybe both were too focused on their personal dramas to understand the beauty of this situation. They would pass each other, that was clear. Could exchange glances, but not much more than that, and not cease to be who they were or feel what they felt.
were people, two stories and two ways of seeing the same world.
Separated by a single street.
