Rhythm of the city

I do not like austere facades: they are hypocritical and harsh, but how strongly I am attracted by the wonder of backyards! Here iron balconies are lined up one above the other next to the eaves , with cages attached to the walls, themselves similar to cages. From dawn until late in the evening every day, shouts, songs, laughter and speech are heard continuously: birds and children chirping. Every day, until darkness falls, red-cheeked women walk here with their arms bare to the elbows and blouses open to the chest: then they squeeze the laundry with both hands, bend a cross, almost to break it, and in the yard, as if from the sky, heavy stormy drops are pounding: then they spread their underwear in front of the neighbor's gaze without being ashamed, and with this underwear, like a ship , the balcony prepares to sail. There is a celebration in these little cares , and sometimes there are salutes in the pounding of the loud stomps, in the dusty shots on the carpet. Perhaps because it is hidden, here life is fully revealed with its persistence stubbornly in its meaninglessness happy.