It is like trying to cross the Niagara Falls on a bicycle, the doctor continued, finally looking Juan in the eye. We are all pedaling in the air, hoping the wind doesn't pick up.
He realized then that the doctor was right. The struggle wasn't just his; it was the pulse of the island. They were all athletes of the impossible, performing circus acts just to survive the Tuesday afternoon. He began to walk, and as he did, he found a beat in his step. If he had to cross the Niagara on a bicycle, he would do it with a whistle on his lips and a swing in his hips. Juan Luis Guerra - El niagara en bicicleta
Juan felt the room tilt. He looked out the window at the bustling streets of Santo Domingo, where the sun beat down on the asphalt. It felt as though he were standing on the edge of a great canyon, and the only way across was a thin, fraying wire. It is like trying to cross the Niagara
Juan climbed the stairs to his apartment, the bird in his chest still fluttering. But now, it wasn't trying to escape. It was simply keeping time with a song that only those on the wire could truly hear. The struggle wasn't just his; it was the pulse of the island
The neighbor grinned, wiping grease on a rag. I’m halfway across the falls, Juancho! Just don't look down!