The man paused, his hand on the window frame. For a second, the silence of the city felt fragile, like it might shatter. Then, surprisingly, the man let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Barely! Go home, you lunatic!"
He started small. A low hum in the back of his throat as he passed the shuttered bakery. By the time he reached the park, the hum had sharpened into a whistle. But it wasn't enough. "I am here!" he suddenly shouted. Voy Gritando por la Calle
"¡Voy gritando por la calle!" he yelled to the empty balconies. The man paused, his hand on the window frame
Elias kept walking, his pace turning into a rhythmic strut. He began to chant it, a mantra for the midnight wanderer. He shouted his dreams, his grocery list, and his favorite lyrics. He became a one-man parade, a megaphone for the mundane. "Barely
