I cannot help but travel back among the few memories that remain to me, my dear Metropolitan Cologne in Nezahualcoyotl. Step in front of the market Nezahualcoyotl soon I hope to enter it and see how much has changed- while taking to the street headed Escalerillas.
I am amazed at the pharmacy on the corner. There he played "maquinitas" when I was younger. There my mother, one day I went to the market, he realized that there was a school in awhile -because I find myself playing hours after I had supposedly gone to school .Then comes the street-Polanco, who rather it was a mystery in all the years I was living in that colony. My dear Villa Obregon streets were the first street where I lived, there, where the desire ran too hard in my teen years. Desire, yes, lust, call it what you. Tizapan, the next street, it would not mean much in my life. But almost reaching the next corner, I realize everything has changed there.
The corner shop is still there, challenging, and when you leave. Around Sonia lived a good friend I met under peculiar circumstances, neighborhood girl, strong character, but good and noble. In front of her house there lived a boy named Alfredo who was selling magazines. Next, a very nice girls in fact at the time I wanted with me but did not, too much control over all of the groom's older, I never understood all that well.
One of the most dramatic changes coming to my house is the front of the store, on Escalerillas. They lived the Chacon sisters. Lobo Valley and Estela. God knows how to love them as a friend and a boyfriend of one of them. Your brothers, your family. I knew them very well and they to me. Someday delve a little more, maybe another story that feeds these memories so dear.
Then turn around and there it is. The Iztacalco Street, home of many of my most cherished memories and representing many headaches therefore lost. The other house has hardly changed Chacon. In my dreams would knock on the door and go talk to them, see Alejandra again. Chatting. His brothers. It will be another time. Road a bit, lightness of my steps is due to anxiety and joy to be here even in dream visions so powerful. Road to the front of me. The house with the number 108. The place where I spent so many good times. And I wish it were uninhabited. Able to rent it again. I would not mind live again but make more than three hours to work, the better this place, where my heart skipped major upsets many times and where much of the history that forged me as a person, within the bright side, the good side it was written with so much glory ...