Ah, why did I come to your house today? Well, turns off the radio and listen to this. You
salt first, my father yelled, and disappeared in a cloud of blue before I could turn to him. Walking in front of him, pulling with all my strength, when his fingers became dust in my hands, and then nothing more. I could barely hear it, was struggling to get out of the house, listening to the muffled crunch of all columns and ceilings, perhaps an earthquake, I thought moments after being struck by him to get out of bed, but a thousand times more frightening, the ground perfectly still, quiet earth, but all falling apart. I got to the street and saw my house collapsing, collapsing into itself in the dust that obscured everything and said, surely there's my computer you my brothers and my cats and never heard anything and my father and all that I had until late afternoon now is that blue powder that puts me in the nose and stays in my hair. Yes, blue, I realized then that all the dust was blue, is not it weird? Similar cries were coming from all directions, screaming that I could care less. I fell to my knees, panting, on the avenue, and the image was enough for me. Arequipa was wrapped in the blue haze for ten minutes and there was no way of knowing when, or how to know where, but I knew that was the end for everyone. Just knew, you know?
Somehow I also knew that my house was the first to collapse, and still do not quite understand why they did. Always the case in these situations, you do not know nor your name, but you know what is happening, or do you care to ask yourself why. There was no where to go, so I walked a little. Nearby buildings were gray rubble, and I imagine the cries of the kind citizens is in the apartment, screaming and moaning and begging may become the powder blue, imagine going to sleep after watching a series on TV or the guy or a movie, and suddenly find that very strange that he had decided to end, dark blue that thing that was brought under doors and in window wells and removed everything, change everything, destroy everything, everything disappeared. I went to the ravine and recently was at that when I noticed the silence. Something I had never heard, believe me. At first, I seemed to have gone deaf, so I called first thing that popped into my head. Lorena, sounded in the city. Lorena, only your name and perhaps a calming effect, one last time, Lorena, I'm alive, I cried. When does the city have stopped making noises? Or, more correctly, what time the city stopped ringing?
The fog crept through the streets, a few steps ahead of me. I always saw myself just like everyone else. I like the most important of my life, of course, perfectly natural. Have you ever fantasized about a scenario like this, which around the world began to die or disappear without trace and I, only, remained alone, testimony to the mankind in a world completely void of all, only the buildings, trees, animals. How awkward I felt, what I felt abandoned. Sad testimony to the mankind, a child died of fear, a child without a family, a child with no one, because the only thing I felt was the thing that gives you between five and half past five one afternoon in March in Arequipa, as we all know that. My steps took me to Dolores. Had always hoped for something more to this desolation. Yes, there was a very real impact, watching it all off, all as if a blue giant worm came by, but is almost the same as the tree falling in the forest: if no one else but you, no one feels the lack of something. It was suffocating, having to bear the loneliness of a city, or perhaps a planet. Totally suffocating ... for one person, I reasoned. That's what helped me decide, and I picked. Lorena somehow have to be alive. In a veiled way, hidden from the understanding and simple logic, if I had survived, why does not she? Why is she not?
not bore you with details, Anton. I walked. I ran. I panicked. Feared not finding it. Afraid of truth being alone in this world. I really feared a repeat of the story, I feared again face the certainty that does not exist for me. I feared he disappeared again, but this time forever. I was afraid enough to ignore our city destroyed, the lack of corpses and even the endless blue haze that seemed to follow me everywhere.
Finally, I reached the house of Lorraine. Along the way, in my imagination, had exhausted all possible forms of non-finding, a home in rubble, a slight trace of dust where it should be his body, the simple absence of any in the house that I got to know so well. The door was open, and walked calmly to room. "She's alive." "It has to be alive." She was sitting on her bed, staring at me. I smiled, sideways, that way he likes so much. There was nothing to say. I was there. He was always there. Then, without realizing it (and, look, I should have already understood at that time, the tracks were everywhere, you who hear my story, you should have already noticed) held my hand in his face. Powder blue collapsed, collapsed in blue mist. Her eyes, her lips, her hands, collapsed and it was a trail only vaguely dark in the room. I had done. I was all across the city had survived, and it was because I had destroyed everything, I was destroying everything. It's funny to remember now.
shouted to wake up, and woke up my old box, "What ah?" And I was screaming endlessly sure you have not fully awakened, and not necessarily sure you want to sleep anymore. It was just terribly, terribly obvious. In the dream, I was causing the blue haze, and I will not let the blue haze gets there, do not think anyone should do so. There is no reason for bad habits that grow on you destroy your universe. So I got out of bed, bathed, combed my hair, and came here, Anton. I'm going then home, but I came here first because I have yet to be afraid of dreaming. I have fear: what if to kiss her again, it disappears. No, please.
- And that's why I touched the door, I woke up at eleven o'clock at night and forced me to let go?
- Waking? Despiertazo were heard, mongo safe on the internet. Look, I even brought a rum just in case. And to force you to let me in? Nothing, you alone you start to say "To prove you're not dreaming I'll tell you a secret history ..."
- And what is supposed to do now?
- Now I'm going home.
- A Lore's house? And what are you doing?
- I'll tell wolis.
- ...
- I do not know. I do not know the truth. The point is to go.
- ...
- That sparing you sometimes hear. If you were a skinny, I'd say you're the grim reaper, despite the possible confusion with death, and that sort of thing.
- Go lie down ice water, Javo. You should not see in this state. If you're going to say something ... at least you are something more presentable, right? If not, you're talking crap and end your insurance ---
- Dreams, hey, dreams.
- do they have?
- Nobody knows what they are, but they occur anyway. As the ghost love, right? But what I tell you I could say any brat 10 years, I mean ... what do you think of dreams? I never stop thinking about these things, that's what you are.
- Really? A cocktail of things we see in the day, sex, and ideas that do not like to accept. Always add a little vanilla to mask the taste. I think you do something stupid, but anyway. It's not like there was any hurry or anything. You're not the only person in the world who dreams of something. Soledad, I guess.
- But why did you get the cocktail of a film with Charlotte Gainsbourg, no?
- I love that movie. Another of Gondry, the director, Eternal Sunshine of ---
- Ah, that thing I saw with Lorena.
- Yes? When?
- Uh ... I do not remember.
- The dates are everything, you know.
- I do not remember. A festival of the kind that the cultural weapon from time to time.
- Now another question. Where is Paul?
- Questions, questions, questions. Never did they say you'd be perfect for a remake of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?"
- Where is it?
- He's gone away.
- What? Hey, I was talking to him yesterday by the chat.
- Your old lady got a scholarship or something.
- I can not believe you waited until this time. And then you come to invent a story about a dream he has had, and everything just because your best friend away. Do everything backwards.
- is our style, I guess. And best friend ...
- Paul.
- Yes, well. We do not talk since February.
- Any particular reason?
- Not really, no. Hey, I have to go then.
- VayaconDios.
- Godspeed to you too. Agur.
"Maybe Anton is right ... that thing should not take" Think Javier, as in the street thinks he sees a woman walking head down the same as Sandra, except perhaps in the dirt, the sadness in the face and hair so different. You're running late and speeding the passage, and the house of Lorraine.
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