Juan felt the room tilt. He looked out the window at the bustling streets of Santo Domingo, where the sun beat down on the asphalt. It felt as though he were standing on the edge of a great canyon, and the only way across was a thin, fraying wire.
He realized then that the doctor was right. The struggle wasn't just his; it was the pulse of the island. They were all athletes of the impossible, performing circus acts just to survive the Tuesday afternoon. He began to walk, and as he did, he found a beat in his step. If he had to cross the Niagara on a bicycle, he would do it with a whistle on his lips and a swing in his hips. Juan Luis Guerra - El niagara en bicicleta
The doctor sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. We need an electrocardiogram, he replied, but the machine is broken. The technician left months ago because the pay stopped coming. We have no aspirin, no oxygen, and the elevator only goes down, never up. Juan felt the room tilt
When the nurse finally called his name, she didn't look up from her clipboard. She led him down a hallway where the tiles were cracked and the air was thin. They reached a room where a doctor sat behind a desk piled high with yellowing files. The doctor’s stethoscope hung around his neck like a tired snake. He realized then that the doctor was right