Juan felt the room tilt. He looked out the window at the bustling streets of Santo Domingo, where the sun beat down on the asphalt. It felt as though he were standing on the edge of a great canyon, and the only way across was a thin, fraying wire.
The doctor sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. We need an electrocardiogram, he replied, but the machine is broken. The technician left months ago because the pay stopped coming. We have no aspirin, no oxygen, and the elevator only goes down, never up.
By the time he reached his street, the dizziness hadn't vanished, but it had transformed. It wasn't the vertigo of falling anymore; it was the lightheadedness of a dance. He waved to his neighbor, who was fixing a car with nothing but duct tape and prayer. Keep pedaling! Juan shouted over the roar of the engines. Juan Luis Guerra - El niagara en bicicleta
I feel like I’m fading, Juan said, his voice a dry whisper. My head spins, and my chest is a storm.
Juan left the hospital without a prescription, his pockets empty and his head still heavy. He walked into the midday heat, the rhythm of the city rising to meet him. He heard the honking of the guaguas, the rhythmic shouting of street vendors, and the distant, tinny sound of a merengue playing from a storefront radio. Juan felt the room tilt
It is like trying to cross the Niagara Falls on a bicycle, the doctor continued, finally looking Juan in the eye. We are all pedaling in the air, hoping the wind doesn't pick up.
He realized then that the doctor was right. The struggle wasn't just his; it was the pulse of the island. They were all athletes of the impossible, performing circus acts just to survive the Tuesday afternoon. He began to walk, and as he did, he found a beat in his step. If he had to cross the Niagara on a bicycle, he would do it with a whistle on his lips and a swing in his hips. The doctor sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion
The neighbor grinned, wiping grease on a rag. I’m halfway across the falls, Juancho! Just don't look down!