remain silent for courtesy, no persuasive insistence that woman, you were forced to hide, with effort, the bitter grimace on your face, you were the fan of that afternoon. However, the look of that little girl of four years did you hold her hand and take the lead role in a church that never before visited.
Entered. Explanation of minutes on the harmony of seventeenth-century carved, exquisitely prepared Baroque altarpieces, the brightness of gold leaf, medieval paintings, and other anonymous versions deeply impressed. Pause for a moment of contemplation chilling, pressing harder on his hand, The Christ of the Good Death, by Juan de Mesa, meat full of incisions, blood and pain in their composition, wounds that were repeated in the pictures above, all your same phrase: "They say that the sins of the world", total, for you too said it when you were like her. "She?" Envy shining in your retina. Small highly intelligent to their questions, I could read and write with minimal difficulty, watched his straight hair and long eyelashes, eyes bright, curious hands, face confident, "all grown up" in his talk well vocalized.
followed the tour, except for a couple of penitents on their knees praying in the banks, there were only three in the impressive grounds, it was cold, the wind came and it was manifested in the shadow of the night, thought "Have I been like this? ". We stopped at Marble object where, assumed, put the holy water, he answered, paused, looked at you and lowered his head, "I know what you want" the girl often does not reach, "You want to see what's on the battery?", I returned a grateful light in their eyes. The soft lifted high, to be impressed and say, "Oh, how strong is my sister, my sister!". His fingers touched the water filled and washed. "Hey, that's not to wash", scolding, "You do so" What did you do? Teaches him how to cross themselves, "In the name of ...", materialism?, The big bang? The curved universe ?, how about you existentialist, Atea inconsistent!. The
came down again, I smiled. Lasted a minute, sixty seconds without guilt, microseconds unballasted mnemonic. Until you feel observed, "Damn, I forgot I was there!". Slow, hating, girabas, leaving aside laughter, your body, and the coup: expression of "Deep ...", you saw, proud, touched, candida (happy?), Face tilted toward his right shoulder, with arms folded, typical pose of maternal tenderness, could perhaps have this capability?, parent paradoxical, the petite ran "Mommy, Mommy, I made the cross, the cross !....", She hugged her.
came out it was dark. Do not say anything. "Church beautiful is not it, back the other Once you visit you now? "blood of your blood, when will they join. Way, avoid looking at her, and she, your mother does not seek harmony in your face, still talking about your half-brother, wedding plans, unable daughter, unhappy children, economy, government, and religion.
What bothers you that much?, Head hurts, the body is not supported, you throw you anywhere, follow the hincón, the pressure at the point between the eyebrows, unbearable burning, ringing, and not anymore. All that said only captures "Chau, I call you, do not forget to visit, say hi to your father." The kiss from the girl, unmoved thou will not relent, no longer shone for you, it was just a composite of cells in the next few seconds would grow and reproduce to die, girl name and with faith. "Chau", did you say, "Read." Way back
multiplied steps anxiety, hunger and thoughts. While continuing to tap, hammering stubbornly in one place, I used to play the temples, forehead, eyebrows, and listened to (can by touch?) That pain was born and came back buzzing after all your circular sadistically be, at that point. You'll think, strangely, looking for the home, began when he watched the Altar of Relics, carved in dark wood, neoclassical style of the late S. XVIII, an altar chests full of velvet, which preserved ancient remains inside a cemetery, or maybe it was when you saw the Ecce Homo of Pedro Mesa, beautiful work, emulating a skin color of porcelain, framing the saddest eyes human history.
Your lips could not restrain recurrent words your brain does not tolerate more within himself, "Appian Way", "Ciriaca graveyard." I no longer knew who was speaking, consistency does not appear anywhere, "Impossible." Do not accept suggestions or grossly ignorant reasoning, "To this point?!" In full adulthood, where cleanliness is compelling myths. "Enough." Crosses, you remember, walked slowly, a taxi driver hurrying you with insults, dark car passed in front of you, and the reflection of the glass gave you the revelation, "as in the book!" This time it was not ash was water.
Your faces painted with lead from the smog, the shadow that covered everything, the screams, the lights, the frightened eyes of waiting on the other side of the street "Alarm !!!", Care, speed unexpectedly, just could you turn, it became clear what the shadow, smoke, and reflectors of that truck off your pain.
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Glimmer, announcement that the day was not over, the sun hiding behind the buildings, You turn to look, as if for the first time, does you see, of course, and the listeners: "Are we going to that church?" she said, and not recognize you, turn your face troubled responding: "I've never gone there." "Let us" asked the parent, not wanted, "fear?, No. Contempt for the irrationality that clings to mystical explanations. The girl looked at you fine, accomplice, strange, breathed deeply, took his hand, feeling warm what new is felt in the nerve endings, wanting to scream, free to be you, speaking without speech, street, and led them to the inside. Nunta Asae
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