Instagram LIVE
Percibo a diario, y con mayor frecuencia en estos últimos años, la velocidad con la que cambian las cosas. La revolución tecnológica. Las modas. Los dispositivos electrónicos y mi interacción con ellos.
Una mañana, bien temprano, estaba en el baño cuando vibró mi celular. Lo abrí y era una amiga de una amiga, transmitiendo un vivo en Instagram con la cámara abierta y clavada en un punto fijo, apuntando al cielorraso, seguramente apoyado sobre la mesada del baño, porque dejaba ver un poco del barral de la cortina y un par de dicroicas encendidas.
Yo en ese momento no era muy ducho en redes sociales. Tampoco me puse a investigar si transmitía en vivo y en directo a todo su universo de seguidores o si yo era el único espectador de ese show privado.
Me cruzaba con ella una vez al año, en los cumpleaños de nuestra común amiga. Sin ser una belleza sobresalía entre las mujeres del grupo de sus amigas. Su pelo y su boca eran su marca registrada. Tal vez un poco demasiado caderona, pero de buena altura. Lo que tenía de más en la cadera, le escaseaba en los pechos. Pero ahí estaba ella ofreciéndoseme virtualmente.
Estábamos los dos. Cada uno en su baño.
Lo que me voló la cabeza fue escuchar el rodar del rollo de papel higiénico y el corte seco de la hoja troquelada como único sonido ambiente. Sin dudas ella estaba sentada en el inodoro. No lo podía creer. Nada más público que ese baño privado.
Me costaba entender como estas cosas podían llegar a pasar, sin que ella se diera cuenta de que estaban ocurriendo. No quise continuar mirando y fui yo quien provocó la desconexión.
Juro que en el brevísimo lapso que duró la transmisión no llegué a ver ni un centímetro cuadrado de su piel, solamente el nombre de la amiga de mi amiga en la pantalla. ¡Wow, qué flash!
Me pregunté: ¿Se habrá enterado que transmitió en vivo su deposición matinal? ¿O quizás habrá sido un LIVE exclusivamente para mi y me perdí la mejor parte que ya estaba por venir?
Vaya uno a saber. El hecho es que nunca se va a enterar. Aunque me muero de ganas de contarle.
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Instagram LIVE
I perceive daily, and more frequently in recent years, the speed with which things change. The technological revolution. Fashions. Electronic devices and my interaction with them.
One morning, very early, I was in the bathroom when my cell phone vibrated. I opened it and it was a friend of a friend, broadcasting a live on Instagram with the camera open and nailed to a fixed point, pointing at the ceiling, probably resting on her bathroom counter, because it let me see a bit of the curtain rod and a pair of lit dichroics.
At that time I was not very savvy in social networks. Nor did I start to investigate if he broadcast live and direct to her entire universe of followers or if I was the only spectator of that private show.
I ran into her once a year, on our mutual friend's birthday. Without being a beauty, she stood out among the women in her group of friends. Her hair and her mouth were her trademark. Maybe a little too hip, but of good height. What she had more on her hips, she lacked on her breasts. But there she was offering herself to me virtually.
And there we were both. Each one in his bathroom.
What blew my mind was hearing the rolling of the toier roll and the dry
Instagram LIVE
I perceive daily, and more frequently in recent years, the speed with which things change. The technological revolution. Fashions. Electronic devices and my interaction with them.
One morning, very early, I was in the bathroom when my cell phone vibrated. I opened it and it was a friend of a friend, broadcasting a live on Instagram with the camera open and nailed to a fixed point, pointing at the ceiling, probably resting on the bathroom counter, because it let us see a bit of the curtain rod and a pair of lit dichroics.
At that time I was not very savvy in social networks. Nor did I start to investigate if he broadcast live and direct to his entire universe of followers or if I was the only spectator of that private show.
I ran into her once a year, on our mutual friend's birthdays. Without being a beauty, she stood out among the women in her group of friends. Her hair and her mouth were her trademark. Maybe a little too hip, but of good height. What she had more on her hips, she lacked on her breasts.
But there she was offering herself to me virtually.
And there wey were both. Each one in his bathroom.
What blew my mind was hearing the rolling of the toilet paper roll and the dry cut of the die-cut sheet as the only ambient sound. No doubt she was sitting on the toilet. I could not believe it. Nothing more public than that private bathroom.
It was hard for me to understand how these things could happen, without her realizing that they were happening. I didn't want to continue looking and it was me who caused the disconnection.
I swear that in the very short time that the transmission lasted I did not get to see a single square centimeter of her skin, only the name of my friend's friend on the screen. Wow, what a flash!
I wondered: Did she ever find out that she broadcast her morning deposition live? Or maybe it was a LIVE exclusively for me and I missed the best part that was yet to come?
Did she ever know? The fact is, she will never find out. Thought I'm dying to tell her.
