It seems that the city has become one big recycle. Everything is picked up and is checked, examined and what is leftover is rotten, rotten. There is a mattress on the street that looks not too bad. "Maybe it can make 10 pesos," Fidel calculates loudly. His day is a success.
We sit on a small fence and talk. It was a quiet day but still I became tired again. But why? Walking around for four hours and collecting some trash, no more than that.
"Matthijs, the real tiredness will slip away, but it is that other feeling," says Fidel. I dont understand what he wants to say to me.
Its like the hundredth time I work with Fidel and Teresa on street. I become happier when we find a lot, when people give us their half-rotten vegetables. But still it feels not that pleasant.
I walk with them on the street. We are being looked, looked after.
I return to my home at night and I always feel empty, dirty. The first thing I do is to wash myself.