La Voz de Galicia – April 12, 2026 →
A balloon passed by my window. I was at my desk, looking at the computer, when suddenly an orange sphere, dotted with little spots of every color, danced in front of me. It lasted only a few seconds, but the balloon and its string, showing off their freedom, inspired an endless smile in me. I jumped up to see who it had escaped from. Was it a child? Someone’s birthday? But I couldn’t find out, because from my fifth-floor window I can’t clearly see what’s happening on the sidewalk. So I followed the balloon with my gaze until its shadow disappeared toward the south of Manhattan.
It’s curious how something so trivial can sometimes change the course of a day. The balloon led me to notice the tree I have in front of me, the one I see every day but don’t always truly see… When did it grow so full of flowers? I swear it wasn’t like that the day before yesterday, I thought. And I looked at the sky, with the clouds rushing in the wind, and the sun pushing behind them, playing at appearing and disappearing. Sun and shadow, sun and shadow. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or just seconds, but that balloon is the only memory I have of that morning. And what about what I did the rest of the hours? Perhaps they were so ordinary that I can’t even recall them.
Sometimes balloons appear that interrupt routine with their beauty. But most of the time, nothing happens. And that’s when one has to remember to at least try to see or feel something that brings a bit of joy, or surprise, or pulls us out of the routine of survival. Because if we don’t, the days pass like that, unnoticed, and suddenly it’s Sunday, and we’re not quite sure what we did all week… apart from working.
