In the dining room floor of my grandmother slightly perceive these entities, like nervous birds. Around us and laughing at us, meeting another year for Grandma's birthday. I turn sideways to let the sun enters obliquely from the window, his hands caressing me. It's a winter day like many others, is Sunday and we had to do comedy, going to church to hear the priest talking nonsense non-sense, with patience we are back to the ground after having gone through the bakery to buy a arm gypsy, almost mechanical gestures and actions, rituals that my point of view no longer make sense. Some time ago I feel like I'm moving away from this group of people who lived in my childhood my games and dreams. The physical separation that suddenly made me feel even more foreign here than there. This finding makes me smile, and my cousin Hermione, who always notices everything asks me what's going on in my tiny brain?
My cousin Hermione is a snob, and I know for some time. I answer that in my little brain just spent two blue birds. Hermione makes a face, always been complicated life metaphors. Lights a cigarette and asks me this time, what I do in this country of people over endowed. This may not smile, this time I get to laugh out loud.
What's in our family secrets, dark secrets that inhabit our deepest cave? What has been said but never biting the root of our tree familial? Rumors are that Bastiano uncle, who lives now in an oriental country, had abused ... or Aunt Helen, Iceland, when the little girl was ... Who knows. Yet these rumors open as a window into something more intense, give relief to so many misunderstandings and bad posture. I've always seen the family and more recently as a warped and deformed animal. I like these metaphors.
The grandmother looks at us from the green chair, a chair that was purchased by an Arab prince who was passing by the pier and Uncle Ernest, who worked in an antique shop in the Gothic Quarter , obtained it by 5 thousand. This is the official history of this chair that no one could or can be used, only the grandmother is now celebrating its 90 years. But I wonder what lies behind this chair that has some legs in the form of lion's claws. Also suggests that the grandmother, when young, was a great beauty admired by many men and ... Well, you say such things. I could never imagine it in another form which I admire, the grandmother of a sensible and right, with very correct principles and ideals.
And this cousin of mine, the adorable Janus also rumor that a summer afternoon, with neighboring ... No wonder, it is adorable. Has brown hair, now with strands of silver, and still these green eyes that remind me of these precious stones worn by the kings of the East in the movies Stupid Americans have done in those times of such ignorance. Well, are those times. In this country, I realize things have changed but the substance remains the same. I do not say very high, Hermione would make me another grin, and grin and starting to get tired.
Who are, after all? Just know them and even fewer recognize them. For many years I have been imagining me just like a child when I boarded the plane to leave this my land. In my mind, or my little brain would say Hermione (and rightly), they had not changed. Continued as before, as I wanted them, playful, mysterious, happy and innocent. How much vanity love them not changing mine, each in its own way, free and independent of my own existence. Now give me look like they are, and that basically all of us put up a Mascaret well, and I also took my own fears and insecurities hiding when I offer is the image of a strong and courageous woman. Well, well. What secret black I live? What rumors follow me? I do not care much, but yes, I care.
One day we will have to take to air pollution in this city is Barcelona mythic our family secrets will be the one and only way to heal some wounds that haunt us as angry blue birds of so much darkness. Meanwhile we continue like that, believing that nothing happens.
Grandma made me a wink. Know that when all leave, she and I stay together and we talk about the past. I want to ask a rumor that runs on my mother, it seems to be madly in love before I met my father, an American sailor, a man with brown eyes. And I also I have gray eyes. You never know, I have a father alomejor sailor, and I did not know.
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