Artwork by Enrique Cropper
On Sundays, with fine weather, our family loved to make the half-hour trip out of Bruxelles to Rebecq. The kids were always thrilled to hear the steamy hisses and the clunks of the pistons and see the billowing black smoke from the funnel of the tiny red steam loco, as they took their ride on “Le Petit Train du Bonheur”. The volunteers who had restored the old mining engines, who had re-laid the narrow gauge rails and who now attended to the public, as they queued for their tickets for the trip to Rognon and back, were a friendly bunch. “Nous sommes comme une famillle” repeated the jolly, coal-smudged driver, when he found himself a few minutes alone with the public, and thought he should reveal to them some of the passion for railroads he felt within.
Levanta el vuelo, ave acuática de ciudad, planea sobre los estanques de Ixelles, descansa en piedra de agua, retoma, quebrando el hielo, su ascenso en vertical. Y sube. Sube hasta desaparecer en la borrasca, como un ángel negro, sin mirar atrás. Apuro mi cerveza y dejo un billete de cinco euros debajo del cenicero, pero no es verdad, Pablo se queda en el Café Belga tomándose la última y yo me despido con el regusto a té de menta y tabaco todavía en el paladar. Odio que fume. Odio todo lo que hay en él, y lo que falta también. Llevamos trece meses juntos. Me doy la vuelta antes de tomar el tranvía y, con fingido gesto de fumadora, exhalo mi cálido aliento que se torna en humo. Después sostengo el brazo en el aire, despidiéndome con gesto de falsa enamorada. ¡Qué se joda! Mañana tengo que madrugar, no me apetece que venga a casa. 
“Samuel always has the perfect words to describe how he feels doesn’t he…” Jane thought. She was walking along one of the Cinquantenaire Park’s alleyways. By her side, her daughter Pauline was trotting as fast as her little legs would allow her. Further ahead, the Great Mosque of Brussels emerged from the trees and the growing sight of it got the child more and more excited with each step they took.
Vida y Verdad se escriben con uve… (V) de Volar
