A guy named Steve

    I remember Steve as a middle-aged fat man who was making balloons. I mean... he could do all kinds of   recognizable shapes of animals or objects from some elongated colorful balloons. He was pretty much like a busker who was constantly carrying with him the paraphernalia of his craft. To be ready on the spot for whoever would be interested. Kids were thrilled and all over him with their special requests. I may still have some parts of broken balloons littered in some corners of my house... 

    I was getting exasperated sometimes when he was around... Already thinking how much I had to clean after kids got home with their hands full of the most bizarre looking balloons, very short lived... 

    What do you want... a sword, a puppy, a flower...? 

    He liked to do stuff for kids, he said, and beside balloons he was mastering tricks just to give them joy. Things with ropes, for example. I even observed and admired his unique nautical style sandals made of ropes that went well with his linen outfit. One time, I learned a new thing about Steve: he was suffering from cancer. Unfortunately, such news are so common nowadays that I may not had had the proper reaction. I may had even forgotten. Then, another time, I saw Steve having a fresh haircut, and going in a boat-like water tank, in order to make the public ritual of commitment to Jesus. Next thing I knew... he died...

    I wish I can continue, but death comes with silence... 


   

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