Collection of texts (creative writting) one shots [EN]

I remember

     There is a bakery in the street where I walk, from which emanates a pleasant smell of pastries and warm breads which is superimposed on that of the exhaust gases, left by the cars which circulate. This smell takes me back to sweet memories of my childhood, and I slowly begin to remember Sundays when I had breakfast with my parents who had placed on the table the bread and pastries still warm that my father had gone to get from the bakery.

     Suddenly my mobile phone vibrates, which makes me leave my short reverie, I take it out of my pocket and a notification appears. Thanks to him, I am always connected with my friends and with the news; I'm from the generation of those who have a lot of trouble doing without this little piece of metal. It's both a marvelous invention that allows me to stay connected with the whole world and also a kind of drug that I can't do without and that has a lot more influence on me than I want to admit.

     Sometimes I barely remember how I used to spend my time before I got a cell phone. I am of the generation that no longer knows boredom, because it has the instant possibility of communicating with anyone in the world or of having instant access to information. Everything always goes very quickly, we must be constantly doing something otherwise a feeling of guilt comes to interfere in us, "I could have done this or that". It is as if there is a countdown on our shoulders and our life should be fulfilled moment by moment, always and even more.

     Yet I stay there, looking at my phone, staring at this little screen that informs me of everything and nothing. There's so much information... too much information that overwhelms me, floods my brain that doesn't have time to process it all. Sometimes there are shocking videos or images that appear, but they only stay in my mind for a very short time, it has become almost "mundane". For my generation, violence or death have thus become almost common. We are desensitized to this flood of violent images, there are so many of them, we are like robots visualizing information one after the other.

     There's a dull ringing that makes me raise my head, the tram arrives in front of me, the doors open, I go inside.