's it is spring. Apparently nothing has changed but everything is different. Spring. It still has another face in the winter. It is not yet very hot but the first rays of sun are coming. Above all, we know that each day brings a few hundredths of a degree above. And that changes everything. The smile back on people's heads. The bikes come out of hibernation. The skirts also for the happiness of everyone. We hesitate to leave little or nothing to go buy a newspaper you never read, going to ring at a friend who lives on the other side of town because it's been a long time anyway. In France for the spring, everything looks better, hotter, more enjoyable. Life goes really.
In Bogota, they stay the same, everything changes for the spring. A new season. With some nuances, however. The few rays of sunshine, which struggled with clouds throughout the year, fed up and are definitely the trunk. The clouds, too happy to have won against the sun, we begin to piss all day without respite. The sky rumbles his victory as the fog rolls in, driving in a gray Bogota still grayer than usual. And people are lying around, close their face and call upon it, until it passes. Only umbrella vendors seem happy when they sing their mocking voice " Paraguai, Paraguai, a diez .
But hey, it takes a little more to destabilize the Bogotanais. It's like every year, so despite the rain, fog, cold, wind and ben life goes on. The horn still honking. The lovers continued to kiss. Hawkers continue to sell by bubbling. Passersby continue to progress without a look at the homeless who peels. Students continue to study. Sure. The yuppies are still consistent, dynamically of course. And tourists continue with their turista because whatever the weather, the food remains the Colombian Colombian food.
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