November 2010

I enjoy some childish (when I'm alone) the time before bed. My body is still fresh after a shower and savor the taste of mint in my mouth after brushing. Make up part of the scene that I enjoy right now, waiting intact bed, the warm light of the table and the weariness of my muscles eager to find the slack after a hard day's work. Note the details of the hotel room in which to settle. Add to this pleasure, knowing that the establishment has only recently opened and no wear by careless use. The furniture that will draw the shadows that accompanied me in the dark before closing his eyes made up of two tables, a stylish without edges of some modern material, a generously sized mirror and curtains that form a perfect vertical waterfall.

Wrapped turn off the light and with eyes open environment spy rubbing my hands, swaying with the soft body shivering that occurs in my skin the cold interior of the sheets. I can only stretch your legs to the bed temper completely. Hiss child music from television, many years ago, I marked bedtime. I rub my face in the pillow and go up the shoulders in a warm chill. I am naked, my genitals call my right hand a tune to dance without music are obvious. They are dropped graceless hanging on my leg while lying on your side. In reality that little body shapes and how grateful. Start thinking wildly but calmly.
Yesterday my daughter to bed eight years, I again asked by Victor Jara, the songwriter and theater director who was Chilean tortured and killed in a stadium that now bears his name. I notice that the child is still small to collect the impressions of that event to integrate them into their knowledge and view them on your imagination. But my guess would be because the memory of this man would spend up to fade away into the stone age if not counted. I see that big rock on which it rains continued to wipe out most of the deaths in a few years, surviving only recorded in more depth. Who is the person who has ever carved in the stone? For me, as I recall, is Narmer, the first emperor of Egypt, though they only managed to evoke, it is because it is hypothesized that was killed by a hippopotamus. (I have no idea if five thousand years ago was a pattern of death today as common as a traffic accident) If the animal had had a proper name, so rememoraríamos. If Egypt's first dynasty had done as breeders of fighting bulls of Spain, the emperor's name would become associated for five thousand years of the pachyderm who sacrificed. As the bull Nibs associated with bullfighter Francisco Rivera, as the right-hander Burlero morlaco José Cubero, as Second Lieutenant Pedro Barrientos singer-songwriter Victor Jara. If I weigh well the phrase "SSER remembered," not good for me because at the time of death, disappear, cease to be, you know. The dead are not, not by far that we celebrate. Many who were renowned in his time, have vanished when he died the last thing he recalled. How many people know that we are suffering the passengers, that death separates us, that the stone of time it rains perpetually vanishing.
try to find other thoughts that I may go to sleep, something basic, any time of day and lived, a scene that will travel this way of thinking and you'll play a while to forget in a few days. Nothing has to be eternal, but would not fit. What would become of me if I remember all my life, all, to the infinitely repeated details of daily life and could discern the tiniest difference to make them unique. For example, to evoke each of the times I have washed my teeth in my forty-five years. Life would be longer, heavier, would old with so much information that would have become a burden almost physical.
I'm not on track to fall asleep.

If you keep a clear picture of all the people I've seen throughout my life, even if the time of eye contact in a split second. For example, to distinguish someone who saw seven years ago to pay the highway toll and now I look in a subway car ... Basta! A sleeping. I close my eyes and yet displayed the last individuals I've seen today. A couple of foreign tourists. He, young, big, strong, square jaw and muscled body, with thick and curly red hair in spirals concentrated. Someone taking up the theme that would make it easier for the exceptional, to store in memory. On the contrary, it has a simple body, lanky, straight hair, the shy curves, sloping shoulders, a being more vulgar and repeated, without salient features of an indeterminate age in which they can descry ten different figures. Curious the overall effect because it only goes unnoticed, but as a couple, thanks to the contrast stands out more. The truth is that these two in a month and we will acknowledge, will not be one for me. Now they have been singled out by the past and because my thoughts are around for those circumstances. It is disturbing that in our brain, the faces are blurred and erased the names on the stone of time. If I think of my childhood that Baker, who retired back to his village at the beginning of my youth I remember your face, just his name. I welcome the extraordinary and amazing book "The Name of the Rose", which ended with the sentence "In the early pink we have only your name, your name naked. " Now, thanks to technology I can extend my presence. There are video recordings that keep family and I can give to my descendants as an "filmolegado." In turn they will have their own recordings that added to my own family tree creating a whole motion picture. My grandson's grandson will have all their ancestors, eating steaks, waving to the camera, visit this or that place, and manner of extras, a whole cast of unknowns to be immortalized when crossed with the target, traveling in foreign the weather. To perpetuate, in addition to have a child, plant a tree and write a book, add some home movies. I can see again many times as you repeated image of the bull fatally gored torero Burlero to Yiyo. Another odd couple bound for posterity by their mutual sacrifice. José Cubero died childless, however, we are strangers who see keeping his legacy and by association, that of the bull. Come the first signs of drowsiness before sleep, but not want to fall asleep with the final images from that run.

close my eyes to approach my wife and my daughter, so distant now. In the end, both reason ... If I reduce it to this small body curled up. Start and finish in less than two meters. Live in the moment ... If a tablecloth spread like the Earth in a table and choose ten seconds, one, two, three, four ... now. How many billions of times and inconsequential in the vast majority. Does it last special moments that spread like a sling expanding to the rest?
pussy! I do not sleep!

round me now is my mother, who is ten years dead. You are in my thoughts about me not really her. I can defoliate many times, at different ages and even if she is enthralled, and even recognizes my mind project it as something distant. Life is not so great, if, after provisions, which still continue, we just have something so vague or vague as is the memory and what is even more artificial, scenes recorded for playback on TV.
Many years ago on the bus line, after undergoing a surgery of the capital. The remains of anesthesia is still clouding my thoughts, in that state of bewilderment lay in the lap of my mother stroked my hair. The autumn sun warmed my face slightly, the engine sound was mixed gently with the voice of Victor Jara sang "I lay a nochecita vidalita and I stayed sound asleep "...

I wake up instantly, without transition, yelling and hitting objects on the floor and walls from the next room. The fight is awesome, thundering in another language. I turn on the light, a survival instinct exaggerated the bed I lay, naked I stick to the opposite end of my stay. I hear with clarity violating the ferocity of the next drama. Distinguish two different voices, the two extremes in its timbre. Both bass and treble assault disorderly space. A distinction is clearly not an equal fight, not the screaming face at the same height. The subjugation of the female intemperance tells me the opposite is routed to the abuse, aggression. No views are discussed, I witnessed a retaliation of an attack that grows into violence at any moment Static watch my flaccid penis that resembles a fearless pet that looks at events without knowing what happens. Following the orders of a nonexistent stage manager, I get underwear, knowing that somehow I am part of the cast with an assigned role. Already integrated into the work, my first move is to grab the telephone to call reception. Will my two foreigners who are riding a chicken? The couple who have turned in my ramblings, the huge red women with insubstantial. Will they have just waken up and now for a moment have ceased to scream? By the hotel I get no response. The call signal is repeated without anyone picking up the phone. Possibly have been warned, will be on the way to resolve this incident. The silence continues, as I have awakened me, must have revealed to some customers. "We'll all be following the same movements?
- Help! - No need to know English (which has not been until now the language of discussion) to know that silence is a prelude to the final episode. Women have used a different speech yours in your mouth that word is theatrical and fascia, but the trouble with the reiteration forgive any surprise. The voice emerges predating the drama. Confirms that crying may be the most unlucky of late. You used the most widespread language in our time because it begs the greatest possible assistance. Barrunto your body, if no one prevents (including the perpetrator) will receive at least a beating wildly in a hotel, meeting in this resort city of strangers from different countries. It opens the door to the room of the couple. The corridor is the new set, who wants it is free to act.

begins flight but the screams of women are not directed towards the stairs or the elevator, or the fire escape, if not opposite, to my room. I can choose between being a witness safe and anonymous coward. No new voice rises redemption. On the stairs do not hear a crowd craved strong and courageous. No one opens the door that separates between security and uncertainty? For the recognition of sounds I'm pretty sure she only has left the room. I shudder because I know I'll open the door and I'm so afraid that I can not decide. I think not, turn the handle, entered the scene. The corridor is long, wide and well lit. If she is, she is naked, leaning against the wall of the hall. Our eyes are freezing to observe. For the first time in my life I have before me a person terrified. I stood between the aggressor and the victim. Now I know the face of horror, I note with distress to physical pain of male cruelty. It seems a shame that body, curled up, closed, trembling, I get crippling stomach the hopping of her small breasts, her eyes bulging, his face distorted, her hands small and inefficient. I feel a terrible chill did not understand that tells me his eyes. I think I want to convey that I'm not enough to help. I do not give the size of a hero and what is worse, which may also run the same fate. Do not feel contempt, but I'm unfortunate that an intruder is going to pay dearly for their meddling. Your eyes will see a man in his underwear, lost, so undecided, so sterile to their aid confirming its ominous omen.
- Exit! Exit! - I need help with my arm to signal a possible way of salvation. If we can not face, at least flee to save. She seems to react to my suggestion, make up the body to begin to move, but his gaze passes behind my body. His face burst into a sob lame leaving his back sliding down the wall. The immense rabble is dressed with a knife. The monster wants to complete its barbarism with clothes on and so their appearance is delayed. Standing in the doorway watching me, my presence did not, and unfortunately for me and for women, or even shows a hint of uncertainty. All your major muscles are covered with reinforced their superiority.
"It's mine. Turns to me in English, two words that break me, even more demeaning to women, which collapsed, hopes a close race. I look at it, I deeply deplore the trail of rust sliding down his leg. Humiliated, exhausted, look no implore her murderer. I think of my daughter in the past of this woman, in her childhood, her innocence, innocence. I'm not a drama free person if I'm in the middle of this hurricane and the fate of women may be mine. Denote my breathing and my seizures waiting to be translated into value. Beg in my language, but my words are hot air, but this time I'm begging women watching. Again I turn around, I get in my throat a blow dry me down on the floor. The pain is terrible, I can not breathe or swallow, shake me, squeeze my neck as if I myself who was being strangled. Implore you to swallow air and desire, but it is impossible .. Start to feel dizzy, lose consciousness, I witness yet how putrid human form that I have beaten up the woman's body hair clipping. I can not identify the face of it because all the factions have contracted and tightened without any order. His feet slip in the urine, your body is wobble like a puppet. The criminal's hands holding the hair will keep their faces at the same height. The metal clean, bright stabs of the knife for the first time in the heart, blood is thrown toward the front undesirable splashing the muscles of man, dripping with the pale body, mixing with the urine. Beginning to catch my breath. I see the blade out blood soaked body to re-enter through the left chest. Neck pain is still unbearable, all passes with astonishing slowness in a chilling intimacy. The woman has just lost his life, his murderer's release, the sound caused by the falling body causes me a nervous trembling. Empty my bowels uncontrollably. I feel shame that stupidity, but what I feel. The hall is filled with the smell of shit and blood. The stranger approaches, I return to Yiyo his tragic moment, I analyze the images of the fuck and I think if he had not tried to escape by rolling, the bull had not been released to him. That image I ordered to stay still. The mole is stopped before me, I begin to mourn without whining forces because when I click the throat so I think maybe that might cause my death. Do not look at his face, my eyes go to the woman's body, but not seen. I do not want to end up like her. I do not want my daughter to have ever cut newspaper forever linking my name to the name of these two strangers. Wow and I get disgusted by the stupid and useless reason of my death. In other rooms, guests quiet, safe hear the show will be enjoying more than a morbidly. The word hero humiliating insult me. Spread the tablecloth on the planet, I count ten seconds, in this tiny point I feel like. I wonder how many people are running now my fate?
The gesture of the beast continues serene, looks at me with a red head, seemed to sudase blood staining his shirt. As I'm lying on the ground, the giant is more. It offers me the knife handle.
-Kill or I'll kill you. The phrase gives me a seizure, the smell next to touch my shit makes me an arcade. "Kill me or I swear I'll kill you. The tears are duplicated in my face, my sorrowful cry asks - Why? - Wait to hear. I respond. "I'm Catholic. The neck holding my head and chest beating this fall, I can swallow. The negligible wait quietly. Is giving me time, my head orders as he can. Death asks me mate. In the rooms there are no knives to customers, I offer does not belong to the cutlery in the restaurant, the gun may have traveled with him in the suitcase. The crime was premeditated Since when? Why? What happened to the head of this miserable at the time of the murder? Has not been what I have done? "Catholic? Just killed. "God will forgive the previous act and will blame for suicide? Cut my meditations - kill me or I'll kill you! - The order is as sincere as the threat, the knife handle brushes my nose, a tear in his tour stops this. Stoops and bends its knee to the ground as if he were to invest gentleman, but does not humiliate the head. Put my hand the cutting tool, looks at me with his eyes confirmed that gives me more truce. I watch the dead woman's body to support my action, grit teeth, close my eyes and when I go to grab ... - Stop! - Four people have just left the elevator. Stop my momentum, I push the knife hand to the feet of the new players. The murderer ponders the situation, noting the open door of my room, I launched a fierce punch in the nose that I completely blurred. In this awful state, I hear the sound of exploding glass in my room and cry away the pit of hell.

After spending the morning at the police station and hospital, the psychologist starts fuming. Between sobs I inform you that the bull that killed Paquirri was a hat. That after the death of José Cubero were disputes over property Burlero head. Victor Jara was shot by conscripts. Anything less time spent at the hotel.