The neighborhood recognizes itself, the street does not frighten and fear has no home; It seems a good place to live, well done, thinking of everyone, as it should be
There was a place where people walked. And when they walked, they didn’t have to run. They crossed the unhurried ones, and seeing them, they slowed down, respecting the space for a measure. The ones did not preach pieces, the paths did not hide holes, and the seats always appeared at the exact time, listening to the legs asking for truce.
There, time seemed to have learned to listen. The traffic light waited for the step to finish, the sun did not burn on the shoulders, and not interrupted the route. In the shadow of the trees, voices exchanged stories, and those who lived in the inside was turning outside.
There were gardens that sprang from small collective backyards, flowerbeds and public gardens. There, no one planted with the intention of selling. It was planted because the hands still knew how to take care. A game of dominoes with strangers served more meeting than dispute, and the clocks only remembered the hours when the coffee was cool.
The doors of the houses opened with one gesture. The runners did not require sudden curves, the showers offered protection, and the steps had retired without major ceremonies. It was not tall, but looked away. It had ramps, balconies, meeting halls, wide tables, comfortable chairs, sincere mirrors and non -deceiving light.
The city there was the size of the step. Pharmacy, fair, library, in the radius of will. If something hurt, just cross the street. If something was missing, just go down the elevator. It came in front, the seat was already expected. It looked like a well -done neighborhood. Planned, adapted, perhaps, by someone carefully. It was one of those rare in which the hurry is forgotten and the world was recognizing presence again.
Each corner carries choice. Stay or follow. Walk or sit. Listen or talk. Everything fits. Everything flows. No one needs to escape the routine. The routine invites. The neighborhood recognizes itself, looks, protects itself. The street does not frighten. Not discouraged. Fear has no home. It seems a good place to live, well done thinking about everyone. As it should be.
Columnist
This chronicle takes by the starting point of Infomoney: “to grow in Brazil, but bumps into legal gaps.” By 2030, the number of people aged 60 or older will surpass that of children and adolescents. By 2050, one third of the population will be in this group. This scenario requires changes in urban – not just private condominiums, but throughout the city.
Continuous sidewalks, functional lighting, accessible mobility and nearby services are not differential. Are minimum conditions of displacement and permanence. Without them, isolation, reduction of conviviality and direct impacts on health arise.
Municipal, state and federal governments have legal and operational instruments to reconfigure the territory, responding to the real capabilities of the population. This cannot follow market logic, but the principle of equity. Adapting neighborhoods to aging is not a niche solution. It is public decision. City that welcomes those who agreed for everyone.
*This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the young Pan.
