C ... look before him. We do not know if he sees us. I think so. I see when I'm around her and entered the field of view of his eyes. I know because even though his eyes are fixed on a point, if you move them when something does not touch the balls. As evidence is not small feat, then tilted his great head very slightly to one side of the bed and you can almost see their eyebrows questions expressionless face. The face makes me happy: the C ... complain, judgments, orders and control, while being grumpy, bossy, demanding and sometimes even quite inconsiderate, is still far side of the living. Sometimes I hope these gestures as rain in May.
I lean over and kiss her as we do in my family, with lots of kisses in a row without taking off the mouth of his cheek. My ear I can hear your lips stick and come off very Light. Jlik. And his awareness of me full of joy.
In my father's birthday, I made a video which contained all his life in pictures, from the I could get back in the past until today. That's nothing. For me it was like studying in googleearth the roads leading from Paris to Shanghai. I guess for him would mean going back to go through them.
The video begins with the oldest photo we could find. Hard to believe that your father might have been the child of 2 years sat looking at the camera and artificial diffuse background of an old photo studio, think about his life before and after that time, your child's life and saying nonsense is immersed in that perfection, and endless round of womb. With the glass of champagne in hand, I oservaba and I abstracted the idea of \u200b\u200bher voice, its games, the canvas of his mind at that time began to fill with gurgling information which will then serve for today is : type without which I can not imagine life. It's a good guy, my father. But they look more like (my father standing among his friends watching the video smiling and children there, watching us all from the screen as an old song sounded Italian), there was more to them than you would find Saturn with a centipede. The
next photo of the video was the same child, a monkey all the way, trying to walk along a path recolgado in case of the hand of his mother, a lady brunette, or fat or thin, and has the same face gallinaceous I now look from his bed, though it can not assure you that I see, with gray eyes and dull.
C ... lies these days among all the voices of those we have to care for our daily lives. I do not know what to say. Even if I wanted to tell you many things that would love, now nearly exhausted all your mind. I take your hand, I say that simply work hard and that is fortunate. She appreciates that. And if nothing to tell, so we stayed.
Likes to catch the hand, sometimes haunts him. I understand. For me instead haunt me also. Say it looks like a little girl, but I gesture tells me she is a woman as I am a man and not a child. I realize this every time you talk and we all tend to her to hear better. Its large, slow effort that fills us with anticipation helpful ... I cross my fingers to make a decision on their own, an unnecessary rebuke, order something whimsical and not too deep, one of his great moral touched ... until finally says
I have fear.
... Ah, well that was it, come on, come ... We mimes, used to tease her by removing fuel to the issue. But something inside me pops and it's not the girl: It's a woman that I have caught her hand. It is not the girl who this comforting gesture. Caress
their fingers, with this curious mixture of love and physical awareness of the other. Caress his fingers with the same gesture with her husband probably caressing when they started out. I feel your heat, far across his skin swollen and blotchy I observe with fascination: Review your wrists, float your arms, resting on the sheets, flabby and full of chilblains although it does no cold ..., its horizontal scar neck with his, as his, and the side that, even if they say, recognize the woman in the photograph ... the same eyes, same mouth, and drooling misfit today ...
imagine his shoulders, his chest under his shirt, his belly, his legs, his body, the body that he has had to carry, suffer greatly and enjoy a little bit ... with all its flaws and benefits of body, with whom he played as a child or Canabae to crack the voice in her singing career, the same body, I can not help having this thought, which so often slept with my grandfather and gave birth and walked to niñillo that photo, they say it is my father, although I believe it costs as much as some now recognize her in front of me. Maybe because I also have been seeing all my life, because I've been in your lap and remember his image as a constant that goes a long way in time mixed with toys I've lost, swimming together in various pools, the sea, in time, to the years when we have finally established a complicity, playing with ideas and not a few pictures, knowing and sharing, in order, so things ... I've come to love even when he is old, like her and keep her all my life that insatiable curiosity that has given my youth or at least brought it next to mine. Z
Fractals ", Grandma? How do I explain you now what are fractals?
Y I had to explain it and she understood, in its way, correcting the ignorance of virtue who is risking to get an idea of \u200b\u200bthe unknown.
From the moment I am part of your hand back in time. The walk across like a cloud of more or less accurate figures (his strength, his poscición, its speed, heat, the frequencies of your voice in times of scolding and tenderness) ... that define each of the times my body has interacted with yours, now that takes my hand, until the time I got up the floor to catch me on his lap and I kept up no doubt of that force, that a child is as certain as the sea water. I think even the time when my grandmother was not even my grandma but a woman whose life even though I have been told is quite unknown to me ....
... Suddenly, letting go of my hand, C. .. raises his arm, slowly, like a heavy flag. I encourage you, "Lela come, come come, ay ay", short and happy ... until I respectfully and somewhat intrigued, let it focus, I'll shut up and watch ... My
Grandma
scratches cheek And I see this gesture infinity.
0 comments:
Post a Comment