There are questions that have no answer, questions that no one asks, questions that it is better not to ask, and above all questions, most of them, that are not asked. Because? Because no and enough.
Why are buns sold in packs of five and sausages in six? Where are the millions of socks lost around the world considering that each of us loses at least three a year? What do the old telephone booths look like in the capital of the Mobile World Congress? Why do the volume of cars and trains increase enormously but not that of the car parks and tunnels? Why are some people still hiding money in shoe boxes?
The worst question, however, is the one you are usually asked first. The one of age When I was little, it was hard for me to understand why my parents scolded me when I said, and how old are you? From the older ones my answer was, and you?, because yes, you had more than learned it. It took me a long time to come to assume that this you is also for me. To understand that “going gray is a very sad thing; Gray hair is a message from nature that warns us of the proximity of twilight. And there is no remedy. Ripping off the first one – who doesn't? – is like removing the clapper from the bell that rings the angelus, thereby trying to prolong the day”, as I read in El hombre mediocre , and finally recognizing that perhaps it is true. Asking your age, like are you pregnant?, can be very frowned upon.
And over the years I have observed that the same thing happens with the family, okay? (Was he separated? Did he have a partner? Siblings? Children?). How about work? (And if he is unemployed? Retired? What do I care what he lives on!). And how is everything going? (Everything? That's an unacceptable intrusion.)
Is there any harmless question left? Yesterday I attended the conversation of two children. They would be about six years old (I didn't ask, of course). One tells the other? other? "what is your name?" and the other? other? responds “sexist!”. End of the talk. It would be better not to, but I wonder who and what we are going to celebrate this Wednesday, the most polarized March 8th of all we have experienced. Should I wear lilac?
