The transvestite

 

Has long hair. She wears a pleated skirt that covers her knees and a blouse that reveals her silicone breast. As he walks he outlines more than a woman.

Say hello to another who is standing in the doorway of a cafeteria.

- What was there woman, how are you doing?

-Good, answers the other one.

There are others that are standing on the sidewalks of the streets, or leaning on the walls of the hotels and brothels in the sector.

The one in the story greets a passerby:

-Goodbye, daddy.

Go to a patrol radio and pick up your pace. The others move from their places.

One of the policemen on the patrol radio yells:

- Hey! You fag! What does a woman's dress do?

-And that to you, what do you care?

The others almost fell apart from the laughter.

The seller of fantasies

I've always been a fantasy salesman. It all started with a friend who founded the first store of these and ornaments for wholesale sales in Bogotá. Before, they were sold in china shops and other businesses of different kinds. Although there were many manufacturers, none of them had the idea of ​​organizing a business dedicated to distributing them. That's how I started. He sold wholesale in the neighborhoods of Bogotá, or in nearby towns. Little by little I was acquiring enough clientele to sustain me. Before I had dreamed of being a legal professional, but the environment got me into this field. However, I was saving nothing. The wholesale fantasy businesses prospered until smuggling arrived that competed with the national one at a better price, and of better quality.

Many manufacturers went bankrupt, while others progressed in San Andresito in such a way that they changed their businesses for theirs. To friend came up with the idea of ​​creating a shopping center that would only be accessories for women and men. Then "La Pajarera" appeared, perhaps called that, because it looks like one of these. Before it was a famous hotel called "El Cartagena" where travelers from other regions of Colombia flock to trade their items in San Victorino. Over the years, "El Cosmos" and other shopping centers appeared. Thus arose the competition for those of us who were wholesaling. Sales in surrounding neighborhoods and cities became more difficult. All the owners of the miscellanies wanted better prices and therefore the small merchants failed.

I had an idea. I remembered that I had a friend who made cases for these, and that he sold them at good prices in high-end stores in the center and north of Bogotá. I copied them. I started making them on my own. Since I couldn't compete with prices, I took apart earrings to turn into charms, and made sets with chains and earrings that, packed in the cases, looked attractive.

At first it was a good deal. With the earnings, I was able to pay for a year or two in college. In addition to the novelty of my activity, it was facilitated so that in the seasons like "Those of love and friendship", "The teacher's", "The mother's" and "Christmas", sales increase.

I made a mistake. I was given the case to offer the friend who founded the first fantasies store and creator of the idea of ​​the first shopping center, who bought them several times at a good price to put pins on them. It turned out to be a good deal, as we say to the articles that in addition to leaving a good profit margin, they sell like hot cakes. Then the friend proposed the idea of ​​making the case cheaper to another manufacturer, and in turn other merchants copied it, until it was discredited for its quality.

I was left without occupation for a long time. Years passed and I continued to survive. However, as many people realized what was in the suitcase, and in the belief that it could be gold, or something similar, I was subjected to robberies and robberies, especially in San Victorino and in the area where I live.

Still, I subsisted. There was an economic opening that facilitated the entry of these goods from Taiwan, Korea and Japan made with better technologies. The market was flooded with these items. The clientele was over since you could not compete with the prices. I decided to retail it on the streets. It was not the same. In addition, the police would not let us work because of the invasion of public space. So I made up a last resort: I got myself a carriel, and there I put the little money that I had, which consisted of a few chains with their charms and a few earrings. Now I get on the buses. It is the fashion business. First I pay the driver to let me do the work. Then I distribute the samples to the passengers. There I command. I encourage them. I make them focus. I use all my histrionic resources to convince them of what I am going to sell them. In short, I teach them the qualities of what I offer. I take one of the chains and turn it several times with my hands on the rail of the roof of the car, and I pull it tightly so that they realize its resistance; then I wet it with the saliva, and rub it with my fingers to show them that it does not lose course.

It´s qualite as my tongue. Sometimes the charms are glass balls that inside have a grain that floats in oil, and which I call mustard for good luck. Others I make them believe that each pendant corresponds to a zodiac sign, so that they can buy the one that corresponds to them. There are many ways that I use to sell. Of course, I always have to check the bus on which I am going to get on, because I risk the value of the ticket that the driver paid for. That is my life. That is my destiny. I live on that. 

The seller in the buses

 

I'm a salesman, and my job is to do it on buses. Before I´ve done others in the midst of that law of searching that life in the cities forces us to do. For days and months I saw how in some shopping centers groups of children, young and old, gathered, buying books, sweets, garbage bags and other trinkets that were offered at retail in different sectors of the city. I was very tempted by the idea of ​​doing the same. I thought it was an easy job, but no. The first time I boarded a bus to sell some books on natural medicine that gave me a good result after paying the ticket and asking the driver's permission, I lost part of the profits. Or rather: That was my first shift, as the salespeople say in slang.

My first lesson: Never sell on crowded buses. Even though I won, when I came out several books got lost in the hands of unscrupulous travelers, and I still liked them. After that day I continued doing this type of sales on the buses. However, I risked going up where others had already done it, and therefore the passengers could be tired of so many offers, or they would have empty pockets. Another problem: I had to take care of the coins and counterfeit bills that passengers wanted to get rid of, since they had the habit of asking for the book just when I was going to get off at the change of a traffic light, and when it was ready. starting. In a single day they almost took my litte capital. As I could, I soon got rid of them and also eventually stopped paying the fare. Rather, I did what the vast majority of salespeople do who give out a tempting product to drivers to let them go upstairs to take their turn. The competition is fierce, you have to admit that. In all the avenues and at the confluence of pedestrians, there are thousands of sellers of sweets, books, etc., etc .; outside that there are also others who do not sell, but go up to ask for some help for the burial of a relative, or that since they are fleeing the violence in the fields they also do the same, or because as they are fresh out of jail or a hospital they need the collaboration of the good hearts of the passengers. Those who do best are those who have been climbing to these for years, not only because they are already known by drivers, but because they know where they should get , or because they recognize which bus they should must get on. There are also others who get on by force, when someone gets out through the back door or in an oversight of the driver, or because they do so to reduce their expenses. A matter of luck too. Although this is a difficult job, I think I will continue until when they let us work within these. 

The buses calibrator

Some believe I work with a transportation or survey company. Others, that I give the lucky number to the drivers. But no. I am a bus calibrator. Let me explain: For those who do not live in a metropolis such as Bogotá, a chaotic city where the fight for the penny reigns, and thus do not confuse me with the street children who stand on the corners of the avenues, and they hit with sticks the tires to check their pressure. No. My job is a new profession in this city. We are still few. Once I began to think that it would be a good business to tell each bus driver how long it took him another bus on the same route, or just tell him if he was going ahead and very close. Among this guild they themselves spoke of the fight for the penny. Well, one day I made up my mind. I got myself a notebook and a pencil and I started to write down the numbers of the bus routes and the bus companies in an organized way. It was not easy. Although not all do it, I have tabulated the tracking of buses and routes on average every quarter of an hour. I'm not too bad in this business. Drivers already know me and believe me I live on this. There are already many like me, doing the same. This is my business. Ah!

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The female shoplifters

 

They tell me female shoplifter. Since I was a little girl I have been like this. I accompanied my mother in this trade. While I was asking the owner of an establishment for an item, I wrapped it  up with thousands of tricks to entertain him, while very sneakily I went inside, rummaged in the windows and took out what I could, and especially the money. Without further ado we sneak away. Many times they caught us, but what could they do if I was a restless little girl. It seems that previously these were dedicated to stealing clothes. That was his specialty. While one was deceiving a merchant, the other hid some garment under the naguas and carried it between her legs. But no, now we take everything we can, even if it is a jewel, a radio, anything of value. We usually work in a group since we cannot do it alone. Sometimes my colleagues do theater, while one asks the owner for any merchandise, another grabs the other's face to mislead the customers, and thus sneak away with something. At the end of the day we celebrated how well we had done. Or if not, how about it? Here I am. Many know, but what. I risk everything, even my life, if that's the case. What else can I do. Truth?

The female

Standing in a challenging position, her hands on her waist, she angrily watches the woman who from the window of an old building reveals a dark and smelly room. It gives her the same nausea that she got when one of her mother's clients raped her. She listened to the advice of her friends who explain the importance of having sex without feeling the pleasure of surrender. She does it as a revenge for the mother who banded her and scratched her for trying to do the same as her. Therefore, wear makeup. She wants to feel more female than the mother herself. It doesn't matter if they notice her girlish face.

The old

 

Tired of navigating uncertain paths, he slowly strikes the soul and takes a deep breath to endure the mystery of death. Very slowly it breaks away the sweat of dreams. The ether splashes the room and flutters tremulously the environment caressing the universe that beats its stars between explosions of atoms and traveling lights. Quickly drains the sip of life eager to meet its destination after a hectic past. He haggles over the little that remains of his own, ready to indulge his feelings on the shore of the stars. This urges him towards the future without pause, leading him to look at his image in the reflection of the shower of stars that move in rhythm towards infinity. It is seen in another time without future or space. Cultivate the land with the dew of tears shed on beards weary from the rigor of yesteryear. It is progressively repeated in diffuse instants, as if death were the one suffering on the carriage of life. It has never been the same throughout history. His image goes into eternity covered with different faces and different customs. Sadness overwhelms him again and predicts the death that comes amid the laughter of his accomplices as one life withers, while another germinates. In return, we enjoy seeing him lying on the sidewalks of the streets with his straw hat and threadbare clothes, perhaps tired of living what others began to do. We see him smelling of the gunpowder that his body will consume when we embrace and celebrate his final premonitory. He eagerly awaits the farewell, proud to be in all hearts amidst the blissful looks of the kisses and hugs, and the toasts to the year that will give birth to a new future during the crazy running of time on the calendar. Then it explodes in thunderous sounds and beams of multicolored lights between the celebration of men and women celebrating the end of one, and the beginning of another. The old man manages to cough his last breath. His memory is scarcely engraved on us as we learn to live in a moment the endless passage of the universe.