LOS DE AHÍ

A wasteland just outside the city. A foreign town. The machine set up on the hill, a kind of smart kiosk, organizes the orders. Those from here: Nuno, Munir, Dani, and Eduardo wait for the signal, the sound that announces their next destination. The delivery address appears on the map of their phones amid foreign and unknown words. They pick up the package, hop on their bicycles, and deliver the order, slightly guessing the route, completely unaware of what they are transporting. Then, back to the starting point, until the machine on the hill gives the signal again. Invisible to the vast city that awaits their services, they weave their lives, organize themselves, care for one another, and harbour distrust. The silence of the landscape is filled with falling bicycles and their voices arriving from different corners of the world. The vital noise that resists the void. Forced coexistence transforms into a place of belonging. Into a social network. Into a reference.

Those from here form a small invisible universe, full of life. Overlooked beings, whose faces and names we normally wouldn’t remember, clumsily unfold their stories while delivering packages. Without knowing who sends them, ignoring the contents, and unfamiliar with the language of the country where they live. Yet life emerges amidst the frenzy of bicycles coming and going, beyond words. It resides in their bodies. In the distant music carried by their voices.