Journey to the center of everything
Where did our happiness go to live without saying goodbye?
23yond the geographical truth, Av. Avellaneda and F.G. Lorca (ex Cucha-Cucha), there is a truth of a database chained to our childhood and adolescence that seems to have been yesterday. I was born in Palermo and at the age of six we moved to, from my humble point of view, the best neighbourhood in the Federal Capital: a giant house one block from the fabulous Plaza Irlanda. I can't find an explanation and I don't understand why and when they were diluted through the years customs that made us simpler and happier. Ferro, the club of the neighborhood, headquarters of all our mischief and also the genesis of the first encounters and experiences with the opposite sex. Carnivals, parents, siblings, uncles, cousins, all playing in the street and without a single problem. The bonfires of San Juan, where we put potatoes and sweet potatoes on the coals and it was an individual responsibility to gather the woods. Caballito Juniors where we braided in furious daddy games when we were teenagers, but also when we were adults. Ateneo, the bowling alley above the pizzeria El Ombú, our second home, where Saturday and Sunday was our meeting place and raised. Ireland Square, the most beautiful and particular football stadium on weekends. To return at dawn and that our only fear is that a dog will bark at us in the middle of the silence. Where is all that? Where did our happiness go without saying goodbye? Now, grown up and still in my only beloved neighbourhood, we can only remember with melancholy that Caballito was once the centre of everything.