27 Just to make sure I though again about my previous spiritual girlfriend. A chestnut blonde born in South Africa, she had been abandoned in an asylum for orphans. After having been adopted -along with her terrible younger sister - by an English lady related to the nobility, who divorced years later reportedly due to the gaming vice in which her husband used to squander revenues from stock in gold mines, she first grew in charge of a Zulu child nurse. Incidentally, that child nurse was a great witch capable of making anybody go crazy, by means of a single side tuft of hair next to his or her forehead. Then they would teach her another type of charms, surrounded by nuns in the boarding school already in Arequipa. We get to know each other over there. As children, we shared a hasty half - hour of non stop kisses, and I had not forgotten that she kissed moving her tongue very fast and to both sides, as a shingles beating some nougat. And to my delight, she never wanted to miss even fifteen seconds in breathing, nor in talking, of those providential escapes from the internship. Anyway, by then her oral ability to articulate Spanish and mine in English, were still rather incipient as to be able to express, in such an extremely limited time period, that much excitement and... literal choking! Speaking of time, much later and despite having spent some twenty inexorable years - twenty years is nothing, lies the tango - we would again see each other and combine almost to perfection. Aside from her profile and nose as those of queens in a deck, she was moreover equipped also with skills for psychic issues. We would enjoy the toughest games of mental - synchronism -including in Scrabble and Mastermind - surpassing, by far, all conventional logical possibilities... And thus, pretending to be playing games, I almost came to need her both passionately and vitally, without imagining at that time that she had been devoting herself systematically and during a more or less recent season, to do the manicure and pedicure in favor of some key diplomats. From those cut finger and thumb nails, she would then perceive sensations and quite varied a data that you would have never imagined at first sight. Initially, such an idea seemed childish and implausible. Then, the ability to integrate some kind of a file would not fail to amaze me, based not only on graphology samples, but also keratin and dirt with their respective DNA; upon that time, it was the aftertaste of that struggle to overcome, even with your nails... while on the other hand, those of the moon shaped as a nail, still remained honing their desert eagle claws... And I had no nails, much less claws; largely due to the ill-fated cold war which was eroding us, I had been gnawing at them for at least three decades and a half, while the internal fighting lasted! She had also resided in a neighbor country, but with the increasing there also of the spiral of violence, she had had to end all of her center, left and ultra - right former friends, in that order. She missed less all of that Bohemian team; hence, her telephone bill was bulky due to her intermittent and prolonged long distance calls. In partial compensation, she loved even more than I did, horseracing - not only admiring live exhibitions of our stepping horses. - We would sit and watch live transmission via a satellite dish, and forecast its results. My anticipations always outnumbered hers; and therefore, she was surprised that I never thought about betting anything at all. As she would say, she had the hunch that I could make a lot of money on that. She would offer me, for example, to lend me her latest model Peugeot, and I would turn down such an offer. Once she even protested, You are not interested in money at all, huh? Absolutely nothing interests you! Not Armani or Gucci, anything... In honor of her better times, she refused to let me pay a single bill in the luxury hotels restaurants; and she would not go to just any restaurant. How could I forget her angry gesture when unintentionally I disobeyed one of her a priori statements, of not collecting anything of what the singer dropped on the show floor! I couldnt vary my natural chivalry. Because with another previous lady, I had undergone a similar ordeal when to that gorgeous foreign tourist sitting on the table next to ours, while in a cabaret, an earring fell off. She thought that that other one had dropped it on purpose, and made a scene that almost decayed into a more serious problem, for all the companions of the tourist happened to be Arab youngsters! My interesting insomnia had forced me to go on surviving as a nightlife fan. And a kind of nostalgia would also arise later when listening to acoustic guitars play the fluid musical piece The Stud, whose origin escapes me for the moment. She had not been the only biophilus and hypersensitive woman that I had the good fortune of meeting, with such a pre - disposition to living beings, animals and all kinds of pets, especially cats for which she stated her unconditional love. B.B. had become fashionable several decades before with her defense of endangered species such as that of certain cetaceans. Therefore, it occurred to me that for my metaphysical concerns, we might perhaps could draw a sort of preliminary questionnaire, to include rather innocent questions of a rather innocent appearance, such as, a.Do you enjoy the company of domestic pets? b How about that of wild ones at a prudent distance? c. “How do you feel before contact with long fingernails or the proximity of claws? Besides, it was no longer a novelty that animals communicated among themselves and with us in this life, and that they also sensed the proximity of our transition to the next one. I suppose that upon taming them, animals have been accumulating in their generational memory remains of our neurotic attitude before the death of beings self qualified as very rational; something not observed in their wild stage, except perhaps among dolphins and orangutans, chimpanzees and gorillas, yetis and big foots. While very biding among themselves, pachyderms have retained their hatred or at least great mistrust given their sensitive big trunk, before our penetrating odor. And the sweet and sour stench of a human corpse must be nothing less than unbearable for them, except for one or two incorruptible people. What aroma must they preserve? I remember what my mother referred to us about the singular farewell of a family friend musician; after having left his inseparable beer odor for several years and at the most disparate hours, the day that they killed him little more than a Kilometer away at the front door of his own home, he impregnated my mothers entire house with a pleasant scent of roses, as if having sent a dozen bouquets of them, or spread their perfume.
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 02:41:59 +0000
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