10.7.09

SHEEP ON A SKY PRAIRIE

It's a cloudy day. Dark clouds like sheep herds cover the sky, heavy with rain. Athough it is Summer, it has been a cold day. A chilly breeze blows uninvited through every small hole. The tree that can be seen on the other side of the window shakes with the wind. It bends sadly, slowly moving its big head, like weeping. Today it's not standing proud and thankful to receive the glorious sun. No, today it languishes thoughtful under the soft rocking of the wind wishing for better times. Trees wish for rain, for food.
The sky is grey. There's not a sunny trace of gold. Just a long sustained grey reaching as far as the eye can follow. Who knows what's there behind the hills that surround the valley where this enclosed city lies? There is another city, and another and another until they disolve in peaceful sands that get licked by the constant waves that travel from distant countries, from another continent. The edge of the ocean that does not dare to fully touch the edge of the land.
I wish you could swim like a dolphin and then fly like a sea gull run like a horse and transform again into the man you are.
While I sit here, writing crazy notions about wild transformations, I secretly wish to hear a knock at the door. I would lazily stand up wondering who would want me to do what. And then stand on the door astonished to find you there, no suitcases, wet haired and fatigued ready to fall in my arms.

4.7.09

LOOKING INSIDE

Deep in the woods there's a cabin. It has been conditIoned to have all the modern services, but it keeps its rural aura. However, its inhabitants are not rural at all... well, not always. They both work on computers, each has a lap top. They cherish their lap tops as the people of old times hold on to their love letters. These two met through their lap tops, they were the portals for their love to spring.
However, they don't need them anymore to talk or get lost in each others' eyes. For the moment the cabin is empty. Let's take a look at its interiors. We open the door and the first thing we stumble upon is a red rug. Its rough, Mexcian style. Of course all is wooden, the floors and the walls. Soft maple tones and shades. The rug is on the hall. To the left, on the wall, there's the key holder. A little replica of the front porch where there are no keys for the moment. There's a wooden kitchen bar. The kitchen is in perfect order. Breakfast dishes in the sink waiting to be washed. Not many. It was not an elaborate breakfast. Just the regular English breakfast, bacon and eggs, orange juice, tea and toast. The stove is still warm. The lingering sweet aroma does not belong to a traditional English tea, it's more exotic... orange, clove, cinammon, ginger. Mmm...
The cupboards have enough cups, glasses, plates, and kitchenware. The fridge is practically empty. On the kitchen floor there are several metallic containers. Two are considrably bigger than the others. One has water inside and the other chunky dog food. But there are no other traces of the dog right now.
In front of the kitchen there's a small dinette. Simple. Wooden too. Haven't seen it on the stores or catalogues, not even in internet. Wait. Those chairs are perfectly carved by an artisan. Those are no factory chairs. Those were made carefully, one by one. Each piece is unique, although they all have the same design. The person who made them must be someone really creative. I can imagine those hands. They must be big and rough, but delicate. Those hands know when to be tough and when to be smooth. Beautiful crafting!
On the table there's a vase with flowers. Those flowers are wild flowers, not the ones you can buy at the shop or at the market. Those flowers come from the backyard. They are yellow and cheerful. Like a little sunshine from the outside. It's kind of dark, in spite of being almost noon. The sky is cloudy. It's winter and the snow is several inches high. You can see it through the window behind the dinette that also offers a view of the backyard. Weird backyard. There's a bugambilia covering the backwall, because of the season it's all withered. There's also a jacaranda tree, not common in these surroundings. Big and tall it's branches extend seeming to protect the house. It's got no leaves or flowers. It's covered with snow, still it is majestic and it stands proud. There are flowers all over the lawn, these flowers bloom in winter and are yellow. But it seems there are some other flowers here. They may bloom in other seasons. There is a swing for two. There is a wine, woolen blanket, and a book on, also a pair of glasses. Something's coming from under the blanket. A black cat! Must be crazy being out in this weather. Well, maybe that's why it was under the blanket. It stares at us with a yellow glowing slit and hurries under the blanket again.
Back into the cabin. To the right of the hall there's a cozy living room. Two cream-coloured love seats and a sofa with brick-coloured cushions. Quite comfy. There are also blankets there. Well, the season demands them. On the dark wooden coffee table there are several pictures, two coffee mugs and a ginger nuts wrap. On the wall, topping one of the love seats, there's a painting. It's a portrait. It's a lady in red, dark, long, flowing hair, slim and petite with a pair of expressive eyes that look with love --almost caressing with them-- at the artist. There's a signature. Mmm, not famous, but really good. Impressionist style.
Behind the living room you can find the stairs to the upper story. Shall we climb? Why not? Careful! A white cat with a mask just leaped out from nowhere! Ok. Right in front of the stairs there's the bathroom, complete with a bathtub. Old fashioned style. It reminds one of last century bathrooms. The bath tub is totally apart from the walls, it has lion legs supporting it. A beautiful curtain surrounds it. It's embroidered with blue little flowers. Forget-me-nots to be precise. The rest of the furniture in it is also old fashioned. The mirror in front of where you wash your hands is oval and large, with a pewter frame bordered with flowers. It's fixed to the wall. It looks heavy. Only a strong person could have placed it there. The towels are also embroidered with the same flowers as th curtain. It's a beautiful place actually. On top of the wc there's a little flower pot. It's lavender. When you rub it, it releases its fresh fragance. There's a little painting on the wall. Yes, directly on the wall. It's an orchid. White-bluish with lilac spots. It's framed, or well there's a frame surrounding it.
To the right of the bathroom there's a little library with two desks and a laptop on each. The libabry is made from very simple and strong wooden bookshelves. Again the same craftsmanship seen on the dinette. The wood is very smooth. The design is very simple. Useful. Straight lines that serve their purpose perfectly. They hold the books firmly. One desk is located watching a small balcony that opens to the backyard. On top of it there's a laptop. Closed for the moment.
The other desk is cornering this one. And the lap top is closed too. Next to this desk there's a big armchair. The kind of armcahri you find in flea markets, but the one that turns out to be a treasure. It's quite comfy. It's a present from his mother. Next to this armchair there's a tall lamp. It looks like a flower. It glows with the light bulb inside. And next to this huge armchair there's a little plump one. Between both armchairs there's a little coffee table. On top there's a little embroidered carpet. On the floor there are two pairs of slippers. One is huge and the other is very small.
To the left of the bathroom there's the bedroom. At first glance the only thing you can see is a massive brass bed. Its perfectly made. The cover is a snowy white. There are pillows and cushions. All of them are white. It's the only place where there's a creamy and cozy carpet on the floor. The only place where the pets are never allowed. It's a sacred place. No TV in here, no watches, no clocks, no telephones. Well, there are two night tables to the sides. One has a book on it, a little plump lamp with an old fashioned shade, and two different packages of medicines, the other has a ginger biscuit wrap, a note pad and a pencil, and a package of pain killers.
There's a window to the left of the bed. Under it, there's a small pine table that works as a desk. There's a jar with water and two glasses, a vase with flowers, a notebook and a pen. The chair is also pine wood. They're a set. They were made by the same artisan. In front of the bed there's another mirror. Huge, a sitting oval, not framed, with a smooth border. To the right of the bed there's an armoire. No closets. This huge armoir is a red wood. It's his best piece in the whole house. It's completely deco. He wouldn't have it any other way. It's perfectly sized. It has several drawers, different sizes for all their clothes. Linen is kept under the stairs, in a closet made for that effect.
A barking is heard. A car is pulling in. Voices and laughter come from the outside.
"I'm sure I forgot my glasses in the swing. By now Shadow must have broken them. Osh! How can I be so forgetful?"
"Come on here, sexy. Help with these before you go inside."
"Ok, honey. Give me those. Aaaaaaah! Don't swing me like that!... Mmm, give me another kiss."
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"I love you."

1.7.09

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE...

...the teacher and the computer magician were chatting one evening when he told her, "Everyday I wonder what the point in all this is, but as soon as I see you everything makes sense." It was a beautiful thought indeed, but the teacher was a bit neurotic and she understood otherwise. So after they stopped chatting she wrote a message to her dear friend where she told him that he was right, that nothing made sense, but that everything started with an illusion. She was crying when she wrote this. She hadn't realised she had grown to like her friend way too much. She loved spending time chatting with him, she expected everyday a message from him. She enjoyed his jokes, his life, his eyes, his nose, but most of all his smile and his way of laughing, his dimple, c'mon, just about everything! She realised this was not just an ordinary friendship, not just two lonely fish trying to reach inside a huge water bowl. This was a match made by the book of faces. They were like the pieces of a two-jigsaw. They clicked together. She hated the idea of meaning nearly nothing. So of course you can imagine her surprise when she read the reply. It was not one, but three. He agreed with her that everything springs from an illusion, and that he hadn't wanted to confess how much he had grown to love her. When she read those letters, those words, she was crying full of joy. She didn't know what to say not to sound repetitive or obvious. She loved him. Yes! She loved him and best of all, He loved her. It was so weird. And so wonderful!
And greatest even, it is not a story!

30.6.09

ONCE UPON A TIME...

...not so long ago, but really far away, there was a handsome magician who could do wonders with a computer, develop new applications for a company where he worked. He used to spend a lot of time reading faces on a book which was a magic port towards far away lands inhabited by gorgeous ladies from exotic countries. Once, in one of the pages of this book he found the smiling image of a lady clad in red. She had slanted eyes and very dark hair. He could not resist the impulse of sending her a message through the magic book. He had only to wait for her reply.
Meanwhile in another far away country, there was this teacher who lived with her daughter. She spent a lot of her spare time reading many kinds of books and one day, one of her former students who was very imbued into cyberspace launched her into the magical book of the many faces. Thalia, this girl, thought it was time for her teacher to meet someone worthy of her dreams, so she sent her an invite to meet new people. The teacher would browse the pages of this meeting point, until one day she saw a special smile among them. She was a bit incredulous but anyway she replied the message this handsome man from far away islands had sent her.
They started exchanging notes. Once, he sent her an invite to include her in his faces. Somehow they never posted comments on each other's walls. They would send private messages to their inboxes.
The teacher's life changed in many ways. She would run to check her inbox everyday after classes to see if there was a message from her handsome friend from the isles, there was one everyday -sweet, funy, interesting, always present. On the other hand, storms were rising. She had started a legal process to grant her daughter the money she deserved from her father, but somehow fate turned and it was decided on court that her daughter would receive all she needed only if she stayed with her father. Broken hearted she went home. It was now an empty home, divest of the laughter and voice of her daughter. She was surronded by only a big mass of solitude.
Suddenly, in the middle of this apparent darkness, light came in through the curtains and shone over the lap top. She rememebred her dear friend. She had been telling him through the messages all about the process and there was always a comforting message for her to make her survive. This was no exception. There was a message. There were the always kind and sweet words coming from the Angle-land. They fell into her soul like a soothing balsam. She thanked God for him, and him for his words.
Soon he suggested exchanging msn addresses and one day, almost by chance, they met on line. They barely chatted for fifteen minutes, but the teacher felt a great joy invaded her heart.
Each day that passed they grew closer. He told her about his life in short doses. He told her about his children who were very particular and whom he loved dearly. She told him about her daughter and about her dreams, about her strong desire to study in his land the legends and stories written by many people of times gone by. They would communicate which is not only talking but understanding. A great understanding could be felt between them. They loved playing with language --creating new words or making silly jokes that made them laugh heartily. This handosme magician was named after a great spy. And the teacher was named after an Italian actress.
Once again, he suggested her to get a camera so they could see each other. She thought it was fair. She delighted so much in him it was not fair he could not see her. It was December and she had money, she found the perfect camera and bought it. He told her her smile was for real and not a pose for pictures. He was the one who brought her smile out just by thinking of him, remembering his words. Life was beginning to be perfect. But one day...

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Palabras que fluyen, huyen y en algĂșn lado tienen que acabar.