Todos los vientos en la Calle del confluían Olvido. Independing el día fuera that the sunny lluvioso, that completely dumped el cielo estuviera y with the calm of a summer afternoon or completely covered with clouds on a winter dawn, Calle del Olvido the wind always blew. It was a street running through the city in the same way as she crossed the winds. Named after popular tradition since the year it was opened, the mayor unveiled a red curtain behind the plate with the name of a South American liberator. It was after the war when the city was reconstructed when it was decided to call as everyone knew her.
Calle del Olvido In no more than a portal. It is a long narrow avenue where one can see the shops oldest and most modest of the city. Bakeries, bars, fruit, neighborhood barbershops, hardware stores and lingerie shops are the windows of the landscape Calle del Olvido. But there is only a building site which gives onto the street. The remaining houses have been constructed so that their entrances are on the streets or in the opposite perpendicular. And that is the Calle del Olvido has no compassion or their neighbors.
The name, as I said, comes from the fact that the wind whip that makes any passerby to forget the train of thought. When the inhabitants of the city were flying a gentleman hat or shawl instantly knew where to had passed its owner. All citizens who passed by her hair had just scrambled grit of parks and tree leaves. La Calle del Olvido was the most democratic in the streets. Applied equally to all inhabitants. A long-haired women, men hairstyles mature impossible trying to hide his baldness. There was no fixing that resist the tenacity of its winds or skirt or cap that would not wake furiously when the owner was entering that street.
The people however, not avoided. It was easy to see people in need free of thoughts, people who needed to cope with their life from another point of view. Never been more justified than in this street saying "change of scenery." The slap of air, chill in winter and hot in summer, had the power to change for a moment the perception of all those who passed on the street. There
however, and as an exception to the rule, an individual who Calle del Olvido treated with deference. Lived in the building whose site was directly across the street. It was a ramshackle old building fully rented to migrants. Each floor had a nationality. Chinese in the first Moroccan in the second, third Romanian, Uruguay in the room, and Cubans in the past. They all lived in harmony, as if a small representation of the UN concerned. He, however, was not any of these sites. Although he lived in the fifth, due to their Caribbean origin, was from Jamaica. His name was Leo. Leo Dread. He was proud of his ancestors pirates and prided himself on his simple and quiet life.
Leo was sweeper. And he enjoyed his work. The council had assigned precisely the street that nobody wanted to deal. He gladly accepted. Work was just below the house. Peers warned that there was no easy task keeping clean the street where the wind carried a host of objects and flying at a stroke the piles of leaves piled at the foot of leafy trees. "It is not easy Dread, nothing easy. All just chastened. And with that blessed wind it impossible to concentrate. You forget what you going to do before you start to do so. "
Leo, however, had a secret. A secret. A true Jamaican, her hair was made up of great dreadlocks. A dozen thick black dreadlocks as rolled towels that made harmless any attempt by the wind to move a bit of her hair. Nor would much wind attempts to adhere sheets and papers, for one pass of the hand, his dreadlocks were clean and bright. A week to sweep the area, the winds of Oblivion Street tired of blowing in vain, decided to grant a truce to Rastafari. Leo summoned at night, on the balcony of his house and offered him a deal. If he let fly from time to time a pledge, committing themselves to the winds do not blow on their work, to make your task easier. The Rastafarian was delighted to accept.
Since then, the Calle del Olvido is cleaner than ever. The whole town knows Leo Dread as "the Rastas do not forget 'and only a small tribute in the form of a reflective vest or uniform regulatory cap the winds making it respected and that people think that, from time to time, even the more simple are capable of the greatest wonders.
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