Although the coastal breeze was weak, the sensation of coolness was welcome, providing some relief from the oppressive heat that had burdened the day. The house opposite was already in shadow, its white facade having lost the glare of the intense sun rays, and the windows and shutters, previously closed, were beginning to open.
Suddenly, voices could be heard, close by, clear enough to understand without special effort. It was a conversation between a man and a woman, in Spanish. Driven by curiosity, I poked my head out the window and saw two neighbors chatting amiably from balcony to balcony, one on the fourth floor, the other on the fifth.
I had before me a scene that is no longer seen; another way of communicating and socializing.
They talked at length, about this and that, about the past and the present, about someone's death, about life, about the heat, of course. In today's era, dominated by mobile phones and social networks, where we prefer to communicate via audio or text messages rather than speaking face-to-face, there are still those in the neighborhood who cling to the old custom. Times have certainly changed; often, we don't even know our neighbors, and if we do, we barely acknowledge them with a nod and move on.
I started writing about the oppressive heat, complaining. But today, at least, the heat has given me a topic for this column, recovering a scene I hadn't witnessed in a long time.
