She is a girl; she is 7 years old and, like all children her age, she has no friends to play with in front of the building as we did. Today, her grandmother allowed her to go down alone in front of the building and to walk only on a well-defined part of the sidewalk so that she could stay within sight of her grandfather, who was on the balcony.
Me, lurking on the opposite sidewalk, a thousand questions in my soul, from… what if someone kidnaps her even though I live here for years and I have not even seen one conflict between neighbors, to… what if she runs away in the street, although she is such a good child, that she doesn’t even want to hear about crossing illegally, pulling me by the sleeve until the pedestrian crossing every time I want to cross the 4-meter-wide alley.
She is only allowed on a piece of sidewalk, but it is her piece of sidewalk, which she owns. She walks with her back straight, her hands behind her back, just like a wise old man who knows he is taking his last steps… and will be free. But she knows that these are her first steps… free, on her piece of sidewalk, which represents a whole universe, bigger than ours.
It is an unattained universe of “I can’t,” “I don’t want,” “I don’t know.” We start free and handcuff ourselves or let others do it, and she is the only free being I have seen in a long time.
