La Uruguaya

There’s a sort of allurement and beauty in her that distinguishes her from what we, in Brazil, have gotten used to see and praise as gorgeous.
She displays neither the exuberance so celebrated by us nor any wild, sexy side.
But she does have a charm that transpires from her simplicity and that makes me stop in front of her and, for the brief time of a snapshot, want to make her eternal, to register her classic, smooth, deeply feminine forms forever.
And I find her there, on the other side of the border, in Rio Branco, Uruguay.
She characterizes an aspect of the Uruguayan way of life pretty well, one which has an European tone of discretion, of simplicity, as well as a hint of parsimony, of practicality.
I only regret not having the time to wait for the owner of this bicycle and to watch her pedal away along the streets of Rio Branco.
I am sorry for that, but I comfort myself. Any other vision but the one of a beautiful Uruguayan lass, a brunette with long dark hair, wearing a skirt no shorter than knee-length, could be a huge disappointment.
That’s why I move away and cross the border back to Brazil, wondering what the lass would be like, if besides these physical traits I had imagined for her she wouldn’t have other gifts.
Maybe she played some instrument or devoted herself to singing. Or perhaps she studied drama, astronomy. I don’t know why I picture her as an artist, a painter perchance, but she could be a scholar studying the stars or botany. At least that’s what this bicycle inspires me, and I prefer to go on believing that everything is exactly like that.