Number 75 bus...

Nobody knew his name. Nor where was he from. Nobody knew anything about him.

The man on the pavement had no name, no relatives; no neighbours; he had no friends.

He was always by himself, across from a pub called “The Funnies”. And I used to wonder the reason why he lived that way, among so many hurried legs, street dogs, outsiders, noisy cars and out of tune motorcycles...

Days passed by… So did months and years, and the man on the pavement seemed not to care a damn.

I don’t really think he even knew what year he was in, who the pope was…

that the Berlin Wall had been dismantled, the Iron Curtain torn off, and not even what was up on “the rich side of town”.

Today, as yesterday, and as the day before yesterday, I passed by him, and, for the first time, I saw his eyes glittering like rough diamonds...

There was a lovely girl by his side, at the bus stop…

She wore a long pony-tail braid, a black skirt below her knees and a faded blue jeans jacket.

She was holding an umbrella with the colors of the rainbow, and on her back lay a greenish knapsack embroidered with a tiny Brazilian national flag. The girl smiled at him and said “Hi!!!”

For a few seconds he seemed to be the happiest folk in the world, but, as time waits no man… What a pity!!! Soon, a double-deck red bus turned the corner, and, as in a “Cameron (1) movie”, slowly approached, getting bigger and bigger…

The girl then stretched her right arm, made a signal. The bus stopped close to the pavement curb, opened its front door. The girl got on and went away staring at the man through a silent window glass…

It was the number 75 bus…

A tale by Zizifraga

Re-edited in January, 2012.

Note: (1) James Francis Cameron. (*1954 - ) Canadian film director, whose immensely successful films include True Lies, The Terminator, Judgement Day, Titanic , Avatar, among others.