Ruben Dario public park

You walk ahead of a line of pedestrians; some go to work, others to the supermarket, or are just passing through. You feel like a guide.

You walk in a hurry, taking care your foot does not slip on the edge of the sidewalk that is next to the lighting poles. You cautiously distinguish that the grim individuals parked next to the sidewalk are the usual drivers. You avoid travelers and protesters with suitcases that, for some reason, are unloaded there as if there was a bus stop. They make them descend on the curb between the vehicular traffic and the forest. One wrong step, and they can sprain their ankle; it's like walking a tightrope!

You see the no parking sign: buses and drivers, you think, portray everything that is wrong in the country. But you ignore that civic conscience, and you go down to the street to walk without tripping; not even cars pass by. In front, in the roundabout, you get on again: hoping they don't crash next to you, and this time the hit finally reaches you. There are always accidents there; is it the semicircle shape? Why would someone make only half a roundabout?

You see banners from neighbors, you have the impression that there's something they don't understand, but another emotion distracts you: it irritates you that there is construction work, and that section becomes impassable. You have mud on your shoes. You don't stop to clean them because, you remember, the line of pedestrians is coming behind you. Among so many things you have to take care of, you forget that every day you walk next to a forest, and there is soil there...

Just a few more days for a vacation to make you forget how uncomfortable everyday life can sometimes be.

A few months later, everything is worse than it was. It seemed that the uncomfortable thing would be better than what this avenue offers today, dust, cones, nets, and more soil, much more. You would like to close your eyes and let your feet take you. You take refuge in your house and try to get everything out of your head...

Today the air feels cool, moist. You are surprised to discover the number of trees, why have you not noticed them before? There is a new pavement, the shadow of the leaves defies the regularity of the pavements. You think that the contrast between the rigidity of the floors and the liberality of the vegetation has always been attractive. In the opposite direction, shadows bathe at intervals over a young couple carrying a baby in a stroller. A puppy accompanies them. You fleetingly ask yourself what was it like here before there was pavement, any pavement at all? How was it before there was a city? When this was just a forest? Muddy, no doubt. Tired of walking. Full of stones. What childish security allows us to feel that simple human conquest, that is a generous sidewalk with the pavement.

Someone running with his headphones passes by you; behind that person, a couple of women in uniform walk arm in arm while chatting animatedly. You think you'd like to have their morning strength. One of them also has the audacity to wear heels; on the old sidewalk tightrope, that would have been impossible. As well as bringing the coffee you have in your hand to which you take small scalding sips. You hear one of them say: "... my friend, do you remember that driver who kept looking at us? How scary, right?”. There are no black cars next to this sidewalk anymore. You also feel some relief. You take another sip of your coffee.

For a while, you share your walk with a father and two girls who go on bikes over the pavement; they bring backpacks. You lose track of them in the roundabout. You think: you have to be crazy or very modern to do something like that; however, you are glad that their peaceful, rather drowsy daily life reveals that they take that path without setbacks every day.

Comfort, you think, ceases to be perceived after a while, but today it is specifically there, materialized in the form of a pedestrian walkway full of city life.

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*Design in process. Project subject to modifications