do not know why I let him, if he had never let you go alone to a public restroom. That day my wife was sick of all: the heat, mosquitoes, ants were climbing the walls of the house of my friends where we stayed. After sitting in the park on a stone bench, with that Pasorrial unbearable heat, he felt how I climbed up the ants leg (thankfully not bite) and that was the drop that overflowed the glass. Not even flinch because I let my son go Santi just that damn bathroom. Anyway, I walked a few steps and stopped me from where he controls with his eyes, leaving the bathroom. My wife however, moved on, without waiting, attended by our daughter Andrea. I spent much time standing, with eyes on the place where he expected to see go to Santiago. Sometimes, but for a short space, looked away to where my wife was looking at shop windows and went away more and more. That was what most entertaining, look at the showcases and fashion magazines full of skinny models I always left the impression that they were going to break up at any time. Had already begun to worry about the lateness of Santi, but thought he should give time, first because maybe there was a line and second because after peeing, would meet this ritual, so rare in people, washing hands with water and soap and personal hygiene laws rule. Santiago lived washing their hands all day, I think I overdid with the habit of cleaning. In the park, every time he touched the sand and stuck to his hands, ran to wash their hands. I remember well what my grandmother told us Deyanira "Oh mijito! Poor, but clean. " I could not understand
how hard I was tied to the ground without reacting, which led me to stay so calm for so long to see that Sam could not get over that bloody bathroom. My woman from afar I was waving to hurry. The street was burning people who squeezed me in passing. Suddenly I was against the tide and began to walk toward the bathroom where my son had gone.
There was much movement of people who came and went, but Sam never left. I had told him wait outside. I started walking with long strides to reach the exit of the bathrooms; outlet for those leaving and entering the input, but the momentum of the crowd hindered me arrive. It was like a river of troubled waters. It seemed as if the street would have been mad, like ants coming and going rioting rapidly, with the only difference is that ants do not crash each other and to me people seemed to see me. Men do not know how to walk in crowds, or stumble all the time or push you. When I finally managed to reach the entrance, I went to the bathroom and looked among the people in Santiago. It was not in the urinals, or sitting on the toilet, because it touched on every door and called his name "Santi, Santi, Santi", he repeated it aloud. People who were there in the same room looked at me like watching a mad man who screams. That
fifteen years ago when Sam was gone in a public toilet in the street Pedro de Heredia. It was Thursday, I remember. We searched everywhere, offered rewards and put ads in newspapers and on radio and paste photos, the damn is sought, through the streets without any result. Yet every so often go there hoping to find it. If anyone knows the whereabouts of a man who as a child was lost in Pasorrial, I ask that you inform me immediately.
how hard I was tied to the ground without reacting, which led me to stay so calm for so long to see that Sam could not get over that bloody bathroom. My woman from afar I was waving to hurry. The street was burning people who squeezed me in passing. Suddenly I was against the tide and began to walk toward the bathroom where my son had gone.
There was much movement of people who came and went, but Sam never left. I had told him wait outside. I started walking with long strides to reach the exit of the bathrooms; outlet for those leaving and entering the input, but the momentum of the crowd hindered me arrive. It was like a river of troubled waters. It seemed as if the street would have been mad, like ants coming and going rioting rapidly, with the only difference is that ants do not crash each other and to me people seemed to see me. Men do not know how to walk in crowds, or stumble all the time or push you. When I finally managed to reach the entrance, I went to the bathroom and looked among the people in Santiago. It was not in the urinals, or sitting on the toilet, because it touched on every door and called his name "Santi, Santi, Santi", he repeated it aloud. People who were there in the same room looked at me like watching a mad man who screams. That
fifteen years ago when Sam was gone in a public toilet in the street Pedro de Heredia. It was Thursday, I remember. We searched everywhere, offered rewards and put ads in newspapers and on radio and paste photos, the damn is sought, through the streets without any result. Yet every so often go there hoping to find it. If anyone knows the whereabouts of a man who as a child was lost in Pasorrial, I ask that you inform me immediately.
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