The double game of tablecloths, the symmetry of so many silverware – all silver and gold -, the marvelous china in which it could see its reflected face, and an undecipherable series of glasses ended up stunning its senses, therefore it sank in a nabbed silence, of animal who has just received a blow and curls up looking still ahead. In a blinking I looked at my hands, the ones that one day got tired of washing cars, which some other time they broke into a fight, and many times they managed to get music from an instrument. I picture us naked.
Imagining was the first point of rupture, the wick that once lit, it turns the one who encourages it in charioteer of the future possible demolitions and corresponding reconstructions. Not always it’s easy, even though there’s this or those schools with the ¨lets imagine more¨. Because to imagine implies not only finding new solutions to ancient problems, but also incredible problems where there was none. The one that imagines not only can invent god doing a roast in hell, but also it can place the devil in the sky teaching tricks to avoid the hell. It is to go, always.
It was for imagine her, and for the contrariness of not being satisfied with nothing less than with her, that I was constructing he reality that ended up joining us around words as silences, like two soloists join about a stave that implies diverse keys, different sounds for the suitable vibration of the only melody. It was for so many kilometers and miles and extra leagues, that all the lines became precise, all the limits exact, so that every negligible difference redounds to an absolute integration, so that every task gives meaning to its rest. So that our eyes have to see.