I am CrazyEye. I know that people laugh when they hear my name. But I
don´t care, because there is always someone that laughs at any name, at any
detail.
CrazyEye spends the nights in an alley where the wind never comes to
disturb him, although there are other malaises, like the stabbing memories
impossible to eradicate, treacherous and returning with the persistence of
stirred-up and poisonous waves; not to talk about the scorn that so many
strangers hurl at me and that sometimes I cannot put up with and affect me more
than I would like. But I have my dry cardboards that shield me during the cold
nights (they exist), and I have two umbrellas that protect me from the rain. No
dog, no cat, no person has ever come to pee in my alley, so I sleep sheltered by
pleasant smells, although there is not too far away a factory that does not
stink but that I think that contaminates me. It is, anyway, a good place, given
my current, already long-standing, situation as an abandoned creature, a corner where I
can feel safe, alone, and where I can make music with empty glass bottles and
conserve tins. Even its location is advantageous to me, because my alley is
halfway between my park and the cliff of the sewer pipes, that is, right in the
center of my hunting grounds, so I am a fat spider, greedy in the center of its
spiderweb, a bug well positioned to quickly snap the first treasure that may
appear.
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