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A simple day you'll never go to Paris

You never go to Paris .

It says my sister and I have felt like a whip in the face.

How is it possible that people say these things, I think. To speak without thinking, speak without thinking about what they say. Or think about these things and say them.

Mi hermana me ofrece su perfil, casi perfecto, su nariz a la Sissy Spaceck , un perfil bien diferente al mío, hasta el punto que de repente me pregunto si realmente somos hermanas. Somos tan diferentes, físicamente y tenemos un carácter tan a lo opuesto. Ella, por ejemplo, es una mujer casi perfecta. Digo casi para no decir totalmente aunque muchas veces lo piense: gana mucho dinero, tiene como esposo un Mr. Right, y cuando se compra un coche lo compra cash. Por otra parte cada verano se va de vacaciones. El año pasado estuvo en Escandinavia, el año antes en la Patagonia y este verano piensan ir a Paris, on the floor of a doctor friend of my sister. That is why I say that when I go to Paris could also rent the apartment. Then my sister has certified:

"You never go to Paris."

I light a cigarette while I reflect on these words, this sentence. Since it is this: in a sentence. And a story that in a few months will make me laugh, but for now it almost makes me mourn, what I do and I stand the tears, like a big sissy, and my sister asked why I never go to Paris.

"But you do not see that you can not? Also has no money and all your animals and your husband ... "

And we are in the divisions and classifications. When we have learned to divide and separate? What school? Looking on TV, when we barely knew read? Does the cradle? Dividing is sentenced, he told me one day my professor of medieval literature. I think we were studying Montaigne. The memory of Mr. Park makes me smile, how right the old Frenchman. Racists also split: here I am, master race, and here you are, larva. And parents also divided, without realizing it: this girl is smarter than her sister, and all the stupid things parents do not realize they are building prisons.

My sister, serious, still looking out the window. You hear the voices of our husbands who are mounting a table for dinner as the sun is very strong, like a blanket of love. The profile of my sister worries me, it reminds me how different we are and the inability to say I have always had what I thought of her vanity and pride. I've always had fears because behind them and feel my rage when anger appears also accompanied by violence. And I'm afraid my own violence.

"You know, I would ask one thing: to leave in peace to my dreams and yes, someday I will to Paris, I can assure you. "

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I do not like the judgments, stereotypes, and yet I know it is useless to change the view of others, only we can change ourselves. And it's important to dream, that me in Paris surrounded by immigrants from all over the world to see me walking along La Seine, or mouse that I am in a secondhand bookstore, and a museum and looking where Colette lived alone, no husband, no dogs or cats, alone and free in Paris.