Argentina

"Avellaneda de Bandoneón".

My city is called Avellaneda, and it has many things I like, not just me, but also my brothers, my mum and dad and my grandparents. They all were born and raised here, and they helped build the city from very little into what it is today, big and modern. But the things we like the most in my family are not just things related to the current situation. I learned from my dad just as he learned from grandfather to love football, and I've always gone to the great "Racing" pitch to celebrate their victories, however, my brother preferred mum's painting, "Independent" and we always fight over which is better and who loves Avellaneda the most. My grandparents also taught us about the dance and music of my homeland: The tango. They are very good dancers. I still remember how amazed I was when my grandfather let me play his bandoneón. What a wonderful instrument! It's as if it breaths with you, and suffers hardships together with other men. I still feel the surprise I had when my grandfather took me to look at the sky scrapers of the buildings in Avellaneda.

"You see? The city is like a bandoneón, and the buildings are its bellows."

At first I couldn't see it well, but when I half-closed my eyes it was true. The city was a great big bandoneón, and each little window looked like a key.

"See what I mean?" he asked.

"Yes! It's true!" I answered.

"Okay, now look again. Didn't I tell you that the bandoneón breaths just like men, and that it seems to feel their suffering?"

"Yes."

"The same is true for the city. And if you look closely you'll notice that Avellaneda is suffering. And we're largely to blame! We aren't careful enough. A lot of people throw their rubbish on the ground, others in the water. You see how the Riachuelo turned out, right? In addition to the factories and their waste, which pollutes the waters and air. Let's not forget the many cars which drive and choke with the smog which comes out of their exhaust pipes. Then there's the bothersome noise they make, which causes us to not be able to hear. The city is a bandoneón you can barely hear, we used to be able to hear it and enjoy it, but now, with the noise of cars and buses, not to mention the shouting of the residents, it is impossible. But the other night I heard it again, just like when I was a child your age, and it told me it needed our help."

"And what can we do to help it?" I asked.

"You who are the artist in the house, along with your friends, make a big drawing to show the whole world what our city is today, and another which shows how we'd like it to be, this way all of the Earth's inhabitants will realise that if we put a lot of effort into it and work as a team we can make our cities a better place to live.

It's enough to stop throwing rubbish in the streets and in the rivers, to use fewer cars and use our legs more, to walk or go by bike, to try to learn to use other sources of energy which do not hurt the environment, and for factories to stop polluting our city with their toxic waste and cutting down our trees."

"And if we do all of this, we'll be able to hear our city again?"

"Definitely! And we'll finally get to hear a happy tango."