In order to get the bus on my way home from the office, I always have to cross this big, big avenue. As this city isn't designed for pedestrians anymore, this act implies risking my life every single day, because the traffic is heavy and people don't pay much attention.

Today, while I waited at the corner for some gap in the traffic, a gap big enough to fit my slight personna without it being crushed, I saw an old man starting to cross the avenue from the other side. He just waved one hand at the angry traffic while he made gestures at me with his other hand. When he finally got to me, he grabbed my hand and made me cross with him.

I tried to run, as I always do, but he made me walk slowly. "There's no rush, girl," he said. He walked between the traffic and me, waving his free hand all the time at the millions of angry drivers who shook their fists at us. When we got to the other side, he stopped the first bus (which happened to be mine) and helped me get inside.

As the bus started moving, I turned back to look at him. He was smiling sunnily at me. I waved until I lost sight of him.

* * * * * *

This is the kind of things that have been my blessing and curse over the years. Every time I'm about to lose whatever marginal faith I have in the world, in humankind, in myself, something like this happens. Something that's so full of selfless, unprompted beauty, that I just can't say no and close my eyes forever.