on an adventure I was spinning those words in my head, sometimes in a mocking tone, others with real pleasure. As I drove, I thought the image of those words written on a window suddenly opened on the computer, which had thrown me to fall in the same time wandering through a neighborhood on the outskirts looking for a address was not just another idea in a phone message. The flickering in the toolbar and that sympathetic wonder now dissipated in the air and clear away the brand new neighborhoods ... while my I ran out of street names, just a few meters from this age ugly where the city is growing, becoming degradation streets with no way limits.
on an adventure. I wondered whether I was doing something stupid, if it could be that you were not really you but you and a handful of Russians who were waiting for me ready to kidnap and smuggle my organs, burn a snuff movie ... what I, I wondered if I wake up tomorrow in a strange room, prisoner anywhere and covered with scars, bruises, cobblers in the skin, become an object, a commodity, a puppet, an idiot away from home . Or worse: of all possible return to a home that really is not that far, to be heard around the world who still lives out there. The world thought through the streets deserted, which was still time to turn around, but the yet-I know and would not turn back, he would say goodbye in a few minutes to take the afternoon with a strange blind ... all for my hobby of playing a bitch when I see cards on the table. I've never been a player, I thought I was playing life.
stopped the car and picked up the phone without knowing exactly how or to whom I tell that story. I called G ... The phone line was:
"G ... I'm in the neighborhood of S Street ... this number is. If within an hour I did not call, call the police .... "
I guess sometimes the chips are down, closed like a sphere, black and shiny in each point, more laps than you give. You have to trust ... to whom? ... Self "? And who is self? An idiot. The guy who will hijack. Or not. Perhaps a god, an artist. If all went well ... at least someone who has played the game a new game, the owner of the history of the game, aware of his strange and simple matter.
Seguí forward knowing that it was true that the last time anything was possible and that a percentage, as rarely significant, was risking his life. But after all, any day can become seriously ill or you can catch a bus. I parked the car wondering what was so appealing the image of the bus and if you come as a bus line here.
As we planned , your I opened the door of the portal and went to wait sitting on the bottom rung of the ladder back to the door. Places of people, your home, your room, its rings, its stairways and landings, are never as you imagine. My idea of \u200b\u200byou taking shape at the doors of your everyday world, portal 2, landing, 1 º D, door such, of any person, namely you ... and perhaps your Russian friends, I blew suddenly, not without some quizzically, jilted my prudence, my happy paranoira.
And there I was looking down , with my backpack between my legs, which rose scent lavender and rosemary.
As planned we went out to fetch . Your door creaked with the dull echo of a door that opens into the stairwell and your voice was calling me on the landing. I smiled to acknowledge, more dense and warm, and without sifting through all that tangle of wires and waves that travel the voices on the phone. I enjoyed it while approaching your smell began to flood the landing, opening and closing cheerfully nostrils.
As we planned you sat behind me and not daring to even look at me you got a handkerchief front, I could feel the back of my neck loosened, and barely had time to look and think "dark red" when I was blindfolded . Recognized to touch a belly dancing scarf, soft, saturated with perfume of a woman, light and refreshing ... and full of coins that jingled against my cheeks every time he moved his head.
too tight?. No ... You little unsteadily in silence in the stairwell of all residential buildings. The action of your hands, adjusting the handkerchief if they were your hands, I felt something ridiculous about the possibility that your Russian friends were there, I pictured them to laugh ... I almost laughed at me too.
As we planned, you took me by the hand, your hand yours you who your your voice, your smell ... it had keyboard fingers on an adventure, a few weeks before and is now clinging to my fingers and as we agreed ... always-ahead-of-my-not-dare -Even-try-me-to-face, led me inside your apartment.
crossed a hallway. We cross a room and I wondered what was going through room between the rooms of the world. I imagined a thousand rooms and all seemed very sappy sappy ... this country is in their classrooms. I wondered if there was someone there watching TV ñoñamente, perhaps to let us pass away. I did not care.
Amid blindness, your voice I explained that there were two puffs waiting in your room with a table in the middle. The image was suggestive but given the conditions we were going to spend the afternoon and every object that we manipulate, we agreed that the best thing would be sitting in bed. And in that small territory padding I sat, not knowing what's around the edge or what was ... just the touch of a blanket on a mattress in the world.
As we planned, giving me you sat back and let you blindfold with a scarf I got from my bag. A man scarf use to protect the throat when air is very cold. I told you a little nervous. You wanted to reveal that it was my belly dance. I told you I knew, shaking his head to make noise with the coins that hung. We laughed.
Your curly hair, your shoulders, the warmth of your back, your body weight on the mattress: A woman. Yes. And now I know it's you, because if, for every time you speak, while I adjusted the scarf so you can not see or under or above, I feel the breath out of your mouth and hands warm touches me.
This was the half of the deal, the gesture that everyone does with the other and sealing a confidence unknown until now. It has brought me here in my mind sweeping dangers, the same that made you open the door despite the doubts that have invaded yours.
A little nervous, you get up and organize a little snack. You move around the room with the ease of someone who gets up on it every day and has worn a thousand times with eyes glued to sleep. I realize how silly I must look sitting there, following movements that I see, so I decided to settle down myself. Seeking a place for my backpack, I find a gap between the wall and the mattress, which assigned the dimension of 25 inches and I decide to use later as a security zone to make things that do not know where to place. First island firmly on the territory of the soft darkness of your bed.
For some reason in my head the room is square. However, I know that my front or can be the same as a vacuum or a nearby wall, wardrobe evenly and a library, not yet or where the head of the bed ... so I decide to stick only to what perceive and orient stop with mere assumptions.
Then, after such acceptance, the world of your room is no longer square, ignoring its limits, for hacérseme at once enormous and welcoming as a prairie.
As I began to give instructions and get the gifts, I greatly enjoy your voice ... I remember how to taunt her for the chat, how you said you'd stop hesitate ... and how resulted, after a phone call that was not hesitated to nothing: it was indeed a beautiful voice, a voice that makes you want to capture a radio station, to abduct if necessary, only to bring it to the attention of the world. A voice, simple, sweet, ethereal and sensual that accent voiceover film of the eighties. A little voice that I felt like from neglect to invade Kamchatka .... at least 4 hours that could cost Kamchatka in a game of Risk.
finally come back with me and we were face to face.
We released a little sigh, resigned prior to that smile, proud and impossible to avoid with a good prank, a bit uncomfortable in the first silence of complicity to still should we get used to.
starting to calm down. It seems that I'm not going to die. It seems only you'll be blind. Not until when to hold well. Maybe I'll leave without ever seeing you. For now, at least, will take us time to give us tea and we agreed to find gifts for each of our other 4 senses, inter alia, branches of lavender and rosemary that you are likely sensing.
did not matter. Time ceased to exist, as the light stopped importing a few minutes ago, the few minutes it takes for the traveler assimilate the world that finally comes after thousands annotations, maps and travel guides.
