These are two alternative versions of the same story, inspired as the previous picture by David . And the survey click here: which of the three do you prefer?
arrives at the same time, alone with the quiet pace of those not in a hurry. Down the stairs and leaves behind the twilight to enter the artificial glow of neon lamps.
passed me without looking. I'm used to, does she do it all. In ear earphones has an i-pod hidden in his jacket pocket. Moves his head to follow the rhythm of the music and hair, long, brown, rippling as if moved by the wind. I hear their scent fishing and jasmine, to cover the smell of sweat, oil and iron in this corner of the metro. Breath and at the same time I close my eyes and find myself at his side, facing the ocean, looking at a distant point on the horizon and decide on a future that will never be the same direction.
The blast of a train in rush me back where I spend my days and my nights, hidden behind a pillar, with his back against the concrete wall and her ass on the floor covered with cigarette butts.
stops under the sign 14 St., on the edge of the orange line, while the safety, puts his hands in his pockets and waited. Every so often see in the darkness of the tunnel and I hope for a delay to stay a bit 'with her.
Every day the look and feel like I know more. From the way he dresses, from what I read, the music he listens and that hums quietly in the deafening noise of the trains and the frantic confusion of New York.
I called April, is a name that is well and I remember the first time I saw her in a warm April, the pale sun between breaths of wind. Dressed in a white shirt over a black skirt with dark pantyhose to hide the long and muscular legs that disappeared in a couple of high-heeled boots and wide.
How can we forget that day?
Two Puerto Ricans, two kids who are approaching. The call for a cigarette. She nods her head and returns to ignore them and look the other side of the tracks. The two do not move, there are still a step away from her. They want to know what it's called, where he works, if studied, if you have a boyfriend, if he is not afraid to run alone for the subway.
one with more tattoos and more to necklaces suddenly grabs his arm and goes over to say something in his ear. You are trying to rid the close and while he looks around for help.
A bitter jealousy and anger take me stomach. Everyone is indifference, engaged in their own lives, in their issues and concerns do not see what was happening around.
Then I get shaky. Alcohol shoddy, companion every minute, replacing my courage.
I remember the scene. I'm pushing out the nearest one, and hit the other arm, making him let go. I start between April and the boy. He who laughs and shows a row of gold teeth. He pretends to attack and then stop abruptly. She looks at me and I have bad legs and hard informicolate.
Then everything is a snap. The fast train that goes by and the boy's arm that hits me in the stomach. A sharp pain and surprise at seeing a bloody knife when he withdrew his hand. Cough without breathing, the knees bend and collapse
on the cold pavement and dirt. With the last flash I see both run away and pull April off the phone from her bag and call 911. I still remember the day I die.
Since then say that this is a damn station, where trains make few stops and the air is cold and tastes nasty. I never realized I did not, it's still my house, my kingdom where every woman has the appearance of April and every man is a Puerto Rican with a smile of gold teeth.
arrives at the same time, alone with the quiet pace of those not in a hurry. Down the stairs and leaves behind the twilight to enter the artificial glow of neon lamps.
passed me without looking. I'm used to, does she do it all. Ears has the ear of an i-pod hidden in his jacket pocket. Moves his head to follow the rhythm of the music and hair, long, brown, rippling as if moved by the wind. I hear their scent of peach and jasmine, to cover the smell of sweat, oil and iron in this corner of the metro. Breath and at the same time I close my eyes and find myself at his side, facing the ocean, looking at a distant point on the horizon and decide on a future that will never be the same direction.
The blast of a train in rush me back where I spend my days and my nights, hidden behind a pillar, with his back against the concrete wall and her ass on the floor covered with cigarette butts. It
stops under the sign 14 St., on the edge of the yellow line, while the safety, puts his hands in his pockets and waited. Every so often see in the darkness of the tunnel and I hope for a delay to stay a bit 'with her.
Every day the look and feel like I know more. From the way he dresses, from what I read, the music he listens and that hums quietly in the deafening noise of the trains and the frantic confusion of New York.
I called April, is a name that is well and I remember the first time I saw her in a warm April, the pale sun between breaths of wind. Dressed in a white shirt over a black skirt with dark tights to hide her long legs muscular and disappearing in a couple of high-heeled boots and wide.
How can we forget that day?
Two Puerto Ricans, two kids who are approaching. The call for a cigarette. She nods her head and returns to ignore them and look the other side of the tracks. The two do not move, there are still a step away from her. They want to know what it's called, where he works, if studied, if you have a boyfriend, if he is afraid to run alone for the subway.
one with more tattoos and more to necklaces suddenly grabs his arm and goes over to say something in his ear. You are trying to rid the close and while he looks around for help.
A bitter jealousy and anger take me stomach. Everyone is indifference, engaged in their own lives, in their issues and concerns do not see what was happening around.
Then I get shaky in my corner. I see the scene. I'm pushing out the nearest one, and hit the other arm, making him let go. I start between April and the boy. He who laughs and shows a row of gold teeth. He pretends to attack and then stop abruptly. She looks at me and I have bad legs and hard informicolate.
Then everything is a snap. The fast train that passes, the boy is distracted a second, and my fist hit him in the face. Something I left when I pulled punches in a ring.
Young stays on the ground and his friend barely able to pull it up and escape quickly. April
is safe because of me.
that just should have gone.
The truth is another alcohol is a bad friend who blurs the boundaries between reality and fiction.
I have not ever got out of my hole, I stuck to my board and my bottle half full.
I watched the two tests with a girl under the indifferent eyes of people in suits but with a dirty mind like me.
April was unbalanced in free himself, lost his balance and fell on the rails.
has not had time.
The two fled in the opposite direction to that of the truck, that reached by braking and blowing like a living creature.
April arrives every night at the same time, I see her down the steps and stop to wait with the music in my ears to mark the last minutes of his life.
It 's my curse, my fault. It gives me away and only comes when the train runs at me with dull eyes and sad.
then disappears in the blast.
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