Housing Complex



morning rises slowly like a mist climbing and spreading through the air


a child crosses                       squares of green grass

running                   jumping                         running


a shopping bag in its hand


the apartment buildings

present flat rectangular       surfaces


the windows are equipped with gray steel shutters that close       or open like lids

each room a box

the garden       of smooth green grass                           like a new carpet

is framed by regular rows of identical trees that cast an oblong shadow like a wall


no one speaks to each other here                        a neighbor tells me

breaking the rule

after a year 

at pre-determined hours

two or three old men and a child

take their respective dogs out for a walk one of them is in the habit of

letting the dog run loose


the others stop

each time

the dog stops 



usually silence prevails

broken only by the noise of traffic that swells

at the hours when offices open or close

but occasionally

through paper-thin walls       one overhears

a bitter violent                                discussion

full of resentment

for a ruined life melodramatic panting


background music from the television set



a block away

large bulldozers

busily demolish a small grove

 in order to erect a mass of buildings exactly like

this one