viernes, 17 de noviembre de 2017

TO BE CONTINUED.... FOURTH







In little more than an hour will be closed at night, for then we should have found a place to hide and go unnoticed for patrols uncontrolled swarming after curfew.
Soldier or not predators who kill anyone who caught him stealing and left him lying in the middle of the street bleeding.

What indoors nobody knows. It is certain that hundreds of thousands of people have died suffocated, starved or any other ailment.
Infinity will have ended their lives at the total lack of hope and lack of notilcias.

They are thoughts that go through my head out of desperation and extreme tiredness.
Luis is charging me, takes me almost in a twinkling in the total absence of forces that allow me to hold me by myself.
I was commissioned to monitor the windows or balconies of all the houses we are passing. At the slightest sign suitable to occupy one have to notify to examine our chances of getting into the housing.

The working middle class neighborhood is not as cautious when it comes to shielding hits. Sturdy doors, bars on the lower floors, alarms that do not work and little else.
Breaking down a door would be difficult if we have the assurance that no occupant inside. Had he could defend us, rightly thinking that we were outlaws. We do not want the situation worse than it is already. 

Time passes and our relentless search for shelter is sterile. There is almost alive circulating in front or behind us. Nobody gets out of homes and those who left are almost all dead from suffocation or killed by others to steal their belongings.

The presence and strength of Luis has prevented anyone has tried to attack us, have looked at us with resentment or hatred when I has assisted with the mask but no one has dared more. 
Not even the evil forces are attacking them, a betrayal or weaker if not for the strong and determined as my friend. Less still when they see the uniform he wears, looking confused not understand how a soldier can walk among them helping an old man.

Wait, I say, I think I see something on that balcony far away.

He stops and poses me gently on a baco in street, look at there, he should.
There is little light and but recent dull rays of sun we see two kids who beckons us, we heard their voices as there are far away, but certainly is making gestures with his arms and hands.

What will happen, I said, it is extremely rare to see two kids making those gestures we approach them.

Stay here a minute, I'll get a little closer to them, to see if I hear what they say.

I dread being alone, it is and has been my life, I can not stand to leave me at the mercy of the waves of my own uncertainty. I know I'm alive thanks to him, I also know that if I leave not live more than a moment. The horror I feel seeing everything around me would give me enough to finally finish me shock.

I do not wish to live, I want to return with my wife, hug her, reassure her with my presence, you are very scared for my absence and desire above all say, sky'm back, still together.

I miss my dear Gatufo too, it is certain that the poor will be unbearable, without relating to anyone, just what you do when I have been absent for a few hours.
Not to mention what it does when you miss a few days, takes refuge on his favorite chair under the table and no longer appears to anything but drink water, go to your sandbox, and eat hardly anything.
After five or six days, it appears sullen and without relating almost anyone, only with Cuca and not too much.

I am alone, motionless, petrified looking everywhere. Louis see which is across the square and goes with difficulty dodging branches and bodies to the vicinity of the house.

He looks up and yells at the kids, who want to question them, and faintly hear their voices already broken from screaming that They say, up, up, you open the front door.

Nothing more, wonder is covering my face, gain ?. We raise, rather, what will happen ?. The strange thing is that once the short conversation cover their faces with individual masks and wait and see what happens.


I winced when I feel a hand touching my back and a hoarse voice, waterfall, telling me, help me. 
Give me something, I'm dying of thirst and hunger. And again repeated, help me.

I feel a shiver run down my spine, I dare not turn his head paralyzed by fear.
The smell has gotten worse, if that were possible, and flushes rot flooded my nostrils.

Again death It is close to me, like in the tunnel when surrounded by bodies waiting to be discovered and massacred on the spot.

With effort and slowly'm turning my body to face the voice that needs my help.
The stench of decay and death hits my nose produciéndome deep
arcades uselessly shaking my body. No food or drink that can throw and spasms occur that I feel a sharp pain in the diaphragm.
At once a terrible headache awakens from its slumber and starts pounding my temples as if blood were to flow from them.
The time, I think, I was longing for dear headache that life has accompanied me.
I try to restrain myself and faced face being emitted groans requesting my help. 
A kind of claw grasps my arm causing me almost hurt, I see that is hand quite dirty skeletal young woman to unimaginable limits. Its stench is awful, pulls back, and barely able to stand holding on to my arm.
Next to it is a small cryo, about four or five years, as it stinks. In a paroxysm of almost madness I imagine they are not living beings are zombies, have risen after spending several dead days and now demand my blood.
Help me, repeating "zombie" with and just a whisper and separating the hand of my arm He says the boy.
He is my son, he says, and I want you take him, you do take charge of the then I die. 
I do not want my child to stay next to the corpse of his mother and watch rots, expecting the same comoer die or nothing to drink. 

I refuse to accept what I am seeing or hearing. It's too horrible to assimilate and my mind is closed to the last tragedy of the human being.

I keep silent, unable to speak, she still speaks and explains that have survived hiding among the corpses piled in the streets. Two or three days ago that they ran out of food, and she has been giving his son the last edible pieces he had left.
I am dying, goes on, and you are the only person who can take my son away from me. Take it and try to survive this horror, please, you are my last hope. I'm already dead and I want to rest on the bench where you sit.


A woman largely gone, I think, I'm also in the past. Did not you see ?, I repeat softly to myself.

Callo, do not say anything, why ?, it is mired in fever and in no time will collapse like the thousands that right now what they're doing. 
It's the end, I think there is no hope for humans or for your world. Probably not deserved it after all.

Achievement sit up, I grabbed the kid by the hand and let his dreadful mother take my place on the wooden bench. 

She lies down immediately, close your eyes and breathe anxiously seeking a particle of oxygen. 
Just like me, I can not go in an hour or two I'll caput like this poor young man that perhaps before was attractive and now is a real specter of death.

With relief I hear the footsteps of my friend who comes to us. He is intrigued by the scene and is sure to be accelerated their pace to see what was happening.

What happens, who is this child and the woman lying there on the bench ocupabas you, tell me, do you know her ?. I have been talking about just now.

He spoke it, I'm scared with his vision, no words to say anything.
It has put to rest there and die. Me, he has entrusted to his son and asked me to stay away from this place. Not want your child to see as die and leave only to follow the same fate.

Now we are four, says Luis, great if you are adding smaller or parents can form a large family.

Sure, you do not think that I'll leave lying there this woman ?.

he would tell you to pick the small and me you let me near her, to rest or die, I can not go. 
I know you can not get to my house and so still, if not me stay beside her and we hariamos company waiting for the end.

Shut up, old man, you're not going to die. Take care of the little, can you give your hand and walk two about eighty meters ?. We have to go to the house where you saw the children, I have been asked to come up, we opened the door.

I do not understand anything he says and I have already forces motivation to understand.

Luis opened his knapsack, he takes out two oxygen masks I spend one I put on my face, the other puts the woman lying lifeless in the bank, then pulls another standing in the child's mouth. Finally he asked me mine and placed it on his face. Luckily, I think, is human and it seems the effort to help is making a dent.

Save the masks, the woman raises bank like a pen and places it on her shoulder. On the other carries the knapsack and starts the march to no where, ah, if the house. 

He grabbed the boy by the hand and dragging will not weigh nearly as almost anything either. He looks downright malnourished and walks like a robot of small size.
A broken doll and blackened dirt and stinking of death. As I guess, sometimes self no smell, but my odor is safe as frightening as this being.

I'm in Hell I think, it can not be worse than this that we are all going, my lungs burned. It seems that as pepper breath and cough nonstop insurance already was raw like that of everyone.

The poor child I'm pulling refuses to walk and I can not charge you up because I  lack the strength. Not even cries, gasps, gasps, coughs and then gasp.


Come on, come on, friends who already have very little says Luis.  ¿Friends ?, I know I'm just as the cryo not aware of anything and the woman is faint on it.


We reached a think building is near the portal and crushes button intercom logically not sound, custom, however, we see that a girl of about ten or perhaps eleven years is huddled near the door. He wears 

an oxygen mask and incorporated around ourselves.
Open the door with difficulty and with a gentle push from my friend we crossed the entrance.
It has to raise the little that refuses to keep going and almost took dragging.
We follow the girl and begins the ordeal of climbing stairs throwing out livers.

She walks lightly, takes his mask, but we can not follow their path and after long breaks finally reached the ground where the house is. There are few stories we have raised, nor do I care, round the floor after passing the doorway I fall.

I crawl and shut the door. Immediately an oxygen mask covering my mouth and revives, crawling up beyond the door, I'm inside the house.

Someone put me on a couch, I surrendered and I sleep, I was already in this world because I'm breathing without my lungs burned, but no, that is short and open my eyes focusing the room and the people occupying the chairs.


No woman is poor ragged woman nor child, I dreamed what ?. It seems that I have not dreamed since my friend informs me that they are lying in another room with a good dose of oxygen in your lungs and some food in their stomachs.


Opposite I have the girl of ten years and another child who looks like her brother, You have five or six years and see them healthy. Pale but not too shabby.


As I hear they have lost their parents and grandfather, they are alone and want to leave the house.


Wait, wait, man. I do not hear anything, please start again I reply to Luis.


Let the child tell you about it, Emiliano, I replica Louis. Laura Better yet, give him a hand and take you know where to become aware of the situation.


Said and done, I sit up, take my hand and leads me to a room where three adults are lying in bed. Dead and well dead by their color and the smell that fills the room.

The girl does not flinch, has seen and suffered too, has been alone with her ​​little brother with this scenario at home.
We left immediately, I can not resist view of those bodies begin to decompose and she's telling me that they are their parents, and grandfather.

His parents decided to leave oxygen reserves for their children, his grandfather came expecting to bring more food also. Wanted to leave the house and the city soon.

The grandfather was a colonel who knew where to find supplies, masks, oxygen, weapons, and a plane that could guide them through Madrid and the rest of Spain, stopping in places where there is some kind of order, remains of a government, and soldiers who abide by the orders of their superiors.

My grandfather was delayed too, says the girl, and my parents decided to give us the masks they had previously received from the, my grandfather lay on the bed and they are there, still not moving.


The grandfather came very sick and not know what was wrong, told us to wait here protected, with more masks, we went out to the terrace and atrajeramos the attention of someone who could help us out of here. We wrote a paper to give the person to come up and will surely help us get out of here with supplies and masks that brought them.
He lay in bed coughing, spitting blood, and then fell asleep shortly . 

My brother and I have left us alone, do not wake our parents are dead, we are very sad and we hope you could help

as my grandfather said.

Callo and listen to the girl, looks ready and confident strangers you just know, I wonder his cool to have facts that any other child had plunged him into silence and despair.

She did not, want to survive, is clear who has to save his brother, he feels responsible for the and that feeling gives maturity.

What old are you? I ask, and she says that eleven to twelve six months.


It is a small, skinny lass, but it may be their year for calm seems.


My brother has six, he tells me, before I asked .


Wonderful, I think, we are already large family and am immediately to rest as I see a chair conducive to hold my weight.


Again I have a family to look after, the idea is gaining ground in my tired brain and revive feelings and past.
I see my three daughters small around me waiting to play 'feet to "and I are filled with the happiness and last.
Three daughters of now there is nothing, no way to communicate with them as each went to a place different and distant.
You are adult women with a life full of personal satisfaction. They chose their place of residence in accordance with their work and now fortunately for them not residing in Madrid.
All this time I confident that they are alive, safe, away from these huge megalopolis in which survival had become a hard labor.

The younger living in a capital city in Northern Europe, close to the forests that still stand providing the necessary oxygen that comes in dribs and drabs.
He was there because he did not like the work I was doing in Madrid and now works at a university Danish biologist.
You may have contracted to study the genetic phenomenon that destroys all flora and is safe with staff of biologists and other scientists engaged in unraveling the enigma that plagues our world.

Most left Madrid after marrying for similar reason. Or your child, or to herself, liked life in the big city and nearly twenty years ago changed its public life for a more quiet on a sparsely populated island with scenery and stunning natural life.

Nothing is known of him occurred there, it is possible that this stinking pollution has not reached them and survive the general cataclysm of a disrespectful technological civilization with their environment.

Our other daughter, median, lost us some time, he chose to be away from everything what he remembered his past life with parents and sisters, but we know he is happy with work and life away from this huge city that never liked.


Buffeted me awake and I hear they call me awake from my sleep sail and I realize that I'm not home.
I begin to remember the nightmare that has become my life and peered at the people around me.

Two small and almost adolescent, a tall, strong, determined, and an unknown woman watching me intently.
Who is this woman looking me boldly and some appreciation in his eyes ?.

It can not be the ragged woman dirty that touched me when I was sitting on the wooden bench waiting for my new friend. Or if it is ?.

do not know how they have done but the dirt has disappeared from his face and changed his clothes by other impeccable. The foul smell around him is not and she looks like a very thin, almost emaciated but attractive girl.

I pay attention to what they say.

Hi how are you ?. I am Lucia and I appreciate what you've done for my son.

What have I done?

Nothing really drag with great effort by the hand and lead him here, where we are now, and where are we ?.

I'm waking up to reality, the place where I have been asleep, of bodies there in the bedroom, the great pain of my lungs, my need for breathing, eating, drinking, and especially my absolute desire to see my wife, hug, kiss , tell her I love more than anything in the world, and never part with him.

The desire to see her as soon as possible passage over all the shortcomings that plague my body and my spirit is opened.

When are we going ?, wonder and try to sit up unnecessarily, I fall on the couch again and despair floods me to feel an old body and worn that it no longer serves to almost nothing.

Quiet, relax, you're going to eat and drink to regain your strength, we have oxygen left over to purify our lungs.

How do you think you've been able to sleep for several hours?
If it were not for the oxygen grandfather of these children brought to them, we'd all be dead already.

He was very sick when she saw her dead son his daughter-board chose to leave, I leave a letter you can then read, is very descriptive of chaos and gives clues to escape the city.
I'm reading a letter from a stranger lies dead lying on a bed in a strange apartment.
This led to person or persons of goodwill and calls on them to take charge of their grandchildren and try to save a dying world.

"Who can read this letter I beg you take care of my two grandchildren and try to save with them.
Here there is no hope, the government by the cabinet crisis there. They have left their posts and flee with their families trying to reach the North.
From Brussels have suggested they do and form a central government in northern Europe try to coordinate the exodus of tens of thousands of Europeans who leave their countries and try to reach as wooded areas.
No no food or oxygen masks for all, not even for one in a thousand people.
Deaths have hundreds of millions of refugees in their homes or in the middle of the streets.
Nothing can be done to remedy or alleviate the suffering of these people .
The world we knew is over. Hopefully a new resurgence of the human being more conscious of respecting the environment in which it lives.
Perhaps the planet's population is reduced to a few million or even less than human beings.
My hope is that TU read this letter you can survive and lead to my two grandchildren with you so that both you are part of the survivors.

Left ten masks and tens of containers of oxygen, with enough food to survive at least a month.
I have also made ​​a plan of the places where you can go for shelter or help. 
I hope they keep working.

I'm military and biologist, was part of the Cabinet Crisis of this country, to be waste I come home from my son too late, and I am meeting dead.
They had made ​​reservations to their children in the hope that I acudiera to rescue them.

I can not stand this hell I'm also sentenced to a cancer that will end my life in a very small amount of time.

I can not save you.
To those who read this letter I beg you to save my grandchildren, they like another small may be the hope of a new world. "

I'm excited and terrified by what he describes this man who has left his last hope in the hands of strangers.

We knew the universe is doomed. No government, no order, no hope for those who remain in this country.
I suspected, but not to this degree, I'm dreaming a nightmare that never ends.

Save the Children asks, how ?. He has made plans with indications of places to go on a theoretical exodus northward, and I wonder if someone stay there or is just a hope that has already vanished.

Come on, come on, I have to leave my partner says. All are ready to leave the house as soon as possible.
We will go first to you, and will collect all northbound trying to save our lives.

Yours, I think, but shut up and sit up straight away.
I have fed, have rested, have breathed fresh air, keep doing it and it seems to have regained some of my strength.
In short time I'll be watching and embracing my dear wife, it is all I want right now.

My senses are saturated, no longer distinguish the stench of death from other equally disgusting odors.
With three bodies inside the house is to spend unimaginable asleep at night, as has happened, as have my other colleagues. Fatigue is devastating and sleep is inevitable and very well come.

We have tried to take turns, worse than good, to monitor anyone or anything unpleasant surprise us.
There has been the silence is sepulchral, ​​just a tremendous shriek breaks death when some of those who escape are covered at night viciously hunted and exterminated at the time.
What is the purpose and murder who is sentenced ?.
Stealing ?. ¿
why ?, I wonder if almost nothing has value in a hellish world that destroys itself and every being that breathes.

It is dawning and we are ready to leave the house.
We masks, weapons, costumes and provisions charged in three carts.
They weigh like lead and have dropped danto drifter the risk of broken stairs and scatter all its contents down the steps.

Despite the din nobody has gone out doors closed and silent. There seems to be nobody within the story or its occupants lay dead and hopeless.

The air is unbreathable I think, I do not dare to check covered my nose and mouth for a comfortable mask that gives me life.
We all carry with their respective deposits of vital oxygen.
Accelerating the pace hoping to get home in a couple of hours at most.
The environment is unrecognizable and can barely get my bearings. Giving away fallen trees and decaying like the piles of corpses and scattered everywhere. 

Walk not detain you, do not look, try not to slip on that infamous dirt covering the ground, saying our friend will drag the car more heavy and takes two brothers hooked his other arm.
The young woman unbelievably recovered drags another car aided by her son.
I dragged the lightest but for me I is loaded with lead.

We are already coming, my heart jumps overjoyed thinking to embrace my wife. I do not want to think that they may not have survived.
A voice tells me that it is impossible to find them alive, but do not listen, the hope still lives and allows me to keep moving my legs.

Finally my neighborhood.
What I see and I'm stepping, does not prevent me think I'm close to home, my home and ET ​​would say, my heart races as the distance is shortened.

I look forward with all my might hug and kiss my wife, but fear grips me when I think that there is little chance of finding her alive.

What ?, girl must have gone with her son without waiting ?. I weigh when I see that your chances are nil. Impossible to cross the city without dying in the attempt.

Never the neighborhood was nice and clean, but I can not tell the difference with those who have gone through.
All are filthy and uninhabitable.

Dust and dirt covers it all, the bodies are piling up everywhere, hampering the passage crushed cars like rotten trunks and branches of trees.
Countless rats proliferate among the corpses, the majority killed by their fellow chewed it move between them.
It is disgusting and fascinating to see such a spectacle, not a horror movie, this is your neighborhood, this is your world, it is the reality of a dying environment.

Man has no place, other species struggle to survive and the food is not going to miss.
Nor will lack of oxygen because once exterminated large mammals, including humans, the remaining air will be enough for insects and vermin thousands scamper before my eyes.

Step on cockroaches for hundreds, others up the leg and reach our face. 
Busy hands we can not shake them off.
At this point no longer matter to me, I always were disgusting and frightening, but now everything is more horrifying than any live insects that crawls down my face or legs.
They did not even have the strength to scare them if I could do it.

I commented, we can only reach the end of this street you are on the right, another left turn and we face the blocks where my house is.

Great, in few minutes we will be there, I respond Luis walking freely dragging heavy truck full of food and weapons.
As manages the walking that way to me is a mystery. Sort obstacles with astonishing agility, raising almost on edge creatures leading hand in his other hand.

We heard voices and noises of footsteps muffled by the shapeless mass covering the ground.
They are renegades whispers, we have to hide, but where ?. There's no hiding from view, just stick to the front and hopefully not turn the street continuing straight.

If tuck the street where we are, almost at the corner, we see no remedy.

I stretched a gun to which I look amazement. It is the first time I have a gun in his hand.
Aim and shoot firm, he says, it is easy, I removed the safety. Just pull the trigger as enfiles the weapon at the subject you want to demolish.

They approach, not many, three or four noise and carry the conversation. They laugh and brag about their exploits. They have paid a couple who wore masks and supplies. They have rope for several days due to fat booty in his possession. It seems satisfied enjoying the pain of others.

Where it came this bunch of thugs who still sow terror among the survivors more poor.
Not even be renegade soldiers, wearing their uniforms torn dead after their owners and even some laughs about it, how smart they are confusing the staff thinking come to his aid.
They come and kill without firing a shot appropriating the belongings that interest them. Masks, oxygen cans, weapons and supplies. Money no longer serves you, just like jewelry or ornaments have value to them.

They are around the corner. The sound of a shot me off the stupor that overwhelms me. One of them jumps back impelled by the force of the bullet passing through it in the chest. Blood jumps into an uncontrollable jet dyeing the dirty green shirt and is lying on his back on the floor. Immediately another shot rings and the second man stumbles and falls flat on his face on the wall. Drain and knees stands still without uttering any exclamation.
Shoot Emiliano, I cry, and without hesitation pointed to closer and pull the trigger. A red rose blooms on the shoulder and turns on itself like a top until it collapses.

The other guy tries to pull a gun uselessly rings fourth shot that shatters the front and driven is stamped against a crumbling tree on the sidewalk.
In an instant four bodies more swell the pile of dead.
I'm speechless and horrified. I killed a human being without hesitation. First and last time, I think, but I am wrong and I will soon have the chance to check.




to be continued....

HORA MAGICA

Munich  Fuente de la Salud


Van a ser las doce horas del viernes, las cero horas del sábado, y a veces en nuestro idioma castellano nos empeñamos en decir las doce de la noche cuando en realidad son las cero horas del día que comienza.

La hora mágica también es llamada, quizás porque la inspiración llega cuando el reposo en la casa es total, casi todos se han ido a la cama, los vecinos callan, pasan menos coches, y la soledad del que vela se hace manifiesta.

Me gusta esa soledad tranquila de siempre, y es costumbre mía que cuando mis hijas vivían con nosotros en casa, esperaba siempre a que todas, mi esposa y tres hijas, se hubieran acostadas, entonces era mi momento de relax, de soledad callada, de tomar un boli en los dedos y escribir en mi libro de la vida.

De mi vida y de la de ellas, aunque no eran conscientes de ello. 
De esa forma escribí cientos, o miles, de páginas que nadie leerá nunca.
¿Quién iba a leerlo?, no es interesante en absoluto, un montón de pensamientos, vivencias, dolencias, penas, remedios para mis problemas estomacales o de barriga, proyectos, cuentas, más proyectos, y así un día y otro más. Hasta completar miles de días.

Con el paso del tiempo todo lo escrito no es nada, una sarta de frases, decenas de miles que desfogan la vida de un ser doliente a veces, otras feliz, la mayoría de las veces preocupado.
Esos libros nadie los leerá ya pues han sido destruidos, que sentido tiene leer la vida de un ser común que solo cuenta obviedades.

Ahora tenemos internet, es mas sencillo teclear con los diez dedos y también menos cansado que el bolígrafo, y aunque escribes para ti, siempre se escribe para uno mismo, hay personas que te leen, ¿por que?, misterio.

Piensas que esto no le interesa a nadie, no obstante como decía un famoso torero español "hay gente pa to" (hay gente para todo), nos comemos las silabas cuando hablamos, y puede ser que leyendo las vivencias ajenas encontremos algún consuelo a las nuestras, o aprendamos otro idioma, o sepamos como es la vida en otro país distinto del nuestro.

¿Quién lo sabe?.

Creo que ese es mas interesante que esta forma de escribir en un blog que en un cuaderno que nadie lee, pero no se, sobre gustos y colores no hay nada escrito, y este es mucho mas espontaneo de lo que fué el otro.

Gracias a todos y cada uno de vosotros que habeis mirado este blog, me siento profundamente agradecido.

Gracias.



Madrid   Puente de Toledo y Fuente






el gatufo

UNA CARTA DE AMOR





¿Por que amor mio ahora no puedo estar solo?.
Trato de leer y a cada página me paro.
Escucho la radio, al rato me molesta.
No encuentro postura cómoda y siento frio.

Pienso en ti y en lo que te necesito.
No puedo evitar sentirme egoista.
Egoista por mi necesidad de ti.
De tu amor.
De tu compañía.

Sentirte junto a mis sentidos.
De verte.
De sentirte.
De mirarme en tu cara.
¿Que te doy yo?.

En este momento me entregaria.
A ti en alma y cuerpo.
Para que me tomaras a tu capricho.
Me gusta sentirme tuyo.
Te amo.

Siento amor y me has cambiado.
Por completo.
Necesito de ti una vez mas.
Otra mas, y otra.
Repetir el placer de verte.

Quiero llegar a ti.
Quiero que me pertenezcas.
Ser tuyo a la misma vez.
Te quiero, te echo de menos.
Por la noche cuando duermo.

Desearia estirar un brazo.
Sentirte a mi lado.
Aspirarte.
Poseerte.
Amarte.

Que no inventaria.
Que no trataria de hacer.
Para que en estos momentos.
Fueras feliz, dichosa.
Amante.

Hasta hace poco.
No comprendia la necesidad.
De poseer una mujer.
Necesitar su cuerpo.
Su espiritu como algo vital.

Que no puedes por menos de tener.
Poseer su cuerpo, su alma.
Para estar tranquilo.
Para conciliar el sueño.
Para aquietar el deseo.


Antes había sentido la atracción normal.
Inspirado por un cuerpo bonito.
Bello, sensual.
Nunca imagine este otro deseo.
Poseer otra persona de forma total.

Fundirte con ella en un momento.
Ser uno en un instante supremo.
Serlo así para siempre.
Te necesito de esta forma.

Quiero tu cuerpo y tu espiritu.
Te entrego el mio.
Haz con el lo que quieras.
¿Los juntamos amor mío?




Tanger  Noviembre  1969







el gatufo

viernes, 10 de noviembre de 2017

CAMINAR







Andar que no correr, andar es relax, evasión, nada en que pensar, solo poner un pié delante del otro y dejarse llevar.
En cuesta abajo mas rápido mirando bien donde pisas pues las aceras de Madrid están de pena según que barrios.
Cuesta arriba apretar el ritmo haciéndolo acompasado y seguir, seguir aunque aparezca el cansancio.


Según pasan dos horas ves que ya puedes andar por tiempo indefinido, tres, cuatro o incluso más horas.
Tienes que tener algún lugar fijo para desaguar, es decir orinar, pues si no puedes tener algún percance desagradable. Mas si ya tienes cierta edad como es mi caso.

En unos diez meses el año pasado, y parte de este, anduve unos 900 km. por las calles de Madrid que fueron un bálsamo para encajar el hec ho de quedarme solo en la casa.
Las paredes se me venian encima por lo que nada más comer salía de inmediato sin rumbo fijo.

Programaba el tiempo, dos horas y descanso cinco minutos solo para no enfriarse, una botella de agua pequeña y a seguir.
Algunos días caminé 25 km. por la tarde llegando a límites nunca imaginados.

Tenía artrosis en una rodilla, en la izquierda, consulté con la doctora y me dijo "camine" pero doctora le comenté ¿no me da nada para el dolor?. Camine me respondió, y si tiene mucho dolor tome paracetamol
si es que tiene que ir a algún sitio por necesidad y no aguanta.

Santo remedio, caminar, caminar y la artrosis ha desaparecido. Ya no me duele la rodilla y he caminado todo lo que he querido y más.


Madrid es una ciudad interesante para caminar, no hay demasiadas cuestas y los edificios son bonitos, también hay mucho arbolado lo que gusta sobre todo en otoño.

Las puestas de Sol son hermosas de verdad, parece mentira teniendo en cuenta la polucion o quizás debido a esa polución dañina para los pulmones las luces que se ven en el cielo cuando el Sol ya se ha escondido son impresionantes.

El azul celeste de Madrid es especial, quizás por la altura los día claros de otoño hacen que el azul sea incomparable.





Otoño, la mejor época del año para todo aquel que desee visitar esta ciudad que me vió nacer.

En verano ni se os ocurra, 43 ó 44º C desaniman a cualquier caminante, hay que estar muy acostumbrado a esa temperatura para aguantar a media tarde o medio día para pasear por sus calles.

No obstante el calor es seco, muy seco, igual que el invierno lo que hace mas llevadero tanto el frio invernal -2 º C a las mañanas como el tórrido calor del medio día a partir de marzo o abril.

Seguiremos andando mientras el cuerpo aguante y con el movil en la mano tomando panorámicas de una ciudad tan peculiar y maravillosa como es Madrid la ciudad que me vió nacer.







el gatufo

jueves, 9 de noviembre de 2017

MADRID










Today Madrid is a big city, nothing similar to the city I knew when I was a Young boy and walk round its streets and squares, in fact I can´t recognise this city of todeay less friendly than fourty or thirty years ago.

Every persons who came here to live, after some years it was a madrilean more, it doesn´t matter which part of the world she ot he was born, but even more after ten years or a Little more these people love the city as it was of them, their city by all means.
My parents came from Burgos when they were married already, I was the only one that was born in the city, the Little city then, but it was so nice, friedly, funny as always it was. They, my parents, seems madrileans after ten years living here.

The castellano language here sounds different, as in every land of Spain, but we talk so different that the language its called "castizo" because we use a lot of words and expressions that they are not used other parts of Spain.

We have our own music, "chotis", that is sing and dance in the feasts, but also our own Opera that here we call it "Zarzuela", it is similar to an  Opera but its also spoken at the same time that the music sounds and the singers sing. I do love Zarzuelas, and despite there are these kind of music from all lands of Spain, Madrid has their own Zarzuelas where the way of speaking of "castizos" are the accent that is necessary to use.

The girls are called "chulapas" and the boys "chulapos" and all they have a peculiar way of being dressed, nice coloured garments and also the girls wear "mantones de manila" what is absolutely necessary for them if they wanted to be good dressed.
There are some Zarzuelas very funny and quiete a good music, several in fact, but some of the best known are "La Verbena de la Paloma", "La Revoltosa", "La Gran Via", "El Barberillo de Lavapiés". "Luisa Fernanda"...it was singed by the good Tenor Alfredo Kraus  Placido Domingo but also Javier Pons or Jose Carreras and some of the best sopranos or mezosopranos like Teresa Berganza, Nancy Herrera, Maria Rodríguez, and so forth.......
Once that O went to the theatre to attend to Luisa Fernanda, singed by Plácido Domingo it was sitting close near to me Alfredo Kraus, one of the best tenors to me, he was retired already and few months later he was dead, I was very sorry for him and his family.
Usually Madrid´s music is pleasant, bustling and cheerful just how madrileños are. Friendly nice people who take life easy, without too much troubles.
The city now it is quite different, all has changed to be a big European city, for good or for bad I really don´t know.
Life is different, hard, too much noise, millions of people from every where of the world, some of the áreas that was absolutely typical have changed drasticaly, for worst.

But time changes everything and this my city wasn´t an exception, no so much "castizos" "chulapas" or "chulapones" instead people from China, Equador, Maroc, Peru, Colombia, Nigeria, Argentina, Rumania, Russia, Ukrania, and thirty or more countries have taken their place.
At the end all these people will be madrileños too, that´s for sure, but it will take several years to be truth.
Now Madrid has the best Art Museums nearly from the World, as Thyssen, Prado, Reina Sofia, Picasso, Sorrolla, Caixa Fórum, Royal Palace, Descalzas, and so forth....
But also another kind of events that makes the city one of the first in Cultural event in Europe and other parts of the World...
I love and hate Madrid.

Why? that´s a mystery to me.

el gatufo

(by the way people that were born in Madrid are called "CATS"
some time ago....now I think it is different...why they are called Cats along history......that is another story to tell in future)

STRANDFORD UPON AVON


SOME PICTURES










If not for the amount of people, from all over the world who come and go through the streets incessantly seemed that at any moment you take a leap in history and you will find Shakespeare himself strolling through some of its streets. Although I assume that in the time of the writer everything would be much older and of course rather more dirty.
DIRTY IF, as observed neatness now when you walk around this town like a story, pretty unreal, is absolute. Do not see a single paper, cigarette, NADA, and it is easy to see if you look at the photos.
Undoubtedly is a showcase maintained, clean, beautiful, but nothing to do with what would this city in the time of his illustrious citizen was William Shakespeare.
We like to think that at that time this small town might look like what is now, and nothing is further from the reality that such a comparison. If you think it's absurd, who collected the garbage, feces, the streets would be full of mud, horse dung and other idols that his people would throw out the windows.
dirt, poverty and filth would go on the same hand, which today we see a charming, lovely tale, worthy of being photographed again and again.
Millions of times actually over the years. We would like to all people around the world have such a city, the birthplace of most illustrious character of English and world literature, as global English and comes to the same thing.

Walking through its streets, seeing their homes maintained, it is easy to forget that the historical reality of the streets and houses would be safe to something completely different from what we see now.
course obliterating parked cars glued to the sidewalk, back then we could find wagons, horses and stables where they watered the beasts of the posts.



The monument call it "Memorial" in memory of the clergy and citizens who were sentenced to the stake for religious reasons.
was the Queen Mary, daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon who wanted to convert again the Church of England to the Church Catholic under the Pope of Rome, for it appears that it was dedicated to the stake condemn anyone who does not abjured the new religion adopted by his father Henry to marry Anne Boleyn. Later, after Queen Mary died (called bloodroot, or bloody) was Elizabeth I, daughter of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII who was dedicated to pursuing every Catholic who was in sight, this time sending gut Catholic priests who do not abjure his allegiance to Pope of Rome. usual, first one, then another and the common people and paying the whims of the powerful.



el gatufo

CONTRASTES - ALEMANIA



Dos ciudades separadas durante decenios por un muro que tratan de ser hoy la capital de la actual Alemania, porque a lo largo de la historia fue una sola ciudad estado por cientos de años a lo largo de su existencia.

Solo tras la Segunda Guerra Mundial la ciudad, Alemania y el mundo, fue dividida/do en dos mitades, separadas la ciudad, el resto de Alemania, Europa, y el mundo entero por un muro que todavía marca las diferencias de dos ciudades muy diferentes que ahora tratan de ser una, la capital que fue antaño, así como dos formas de entender la vida, la política, y el vivir cotidiano.

Uno en libertad, el otro bajo un régimen dictatorial comunista que no restauraba nada, que esquilmó todo lo que la guerra no había destruido,  un regimen que finalmente dividió la ciudad con una barrera tratando de evitar la fuga de decenas, cientos de miles de berlineses que aspiraban a un mundo diferente al que sobrellevaban en el Berlín Este. 

Esa barrera, ese muro, custodiado por el ejercito día y noche, con orden de disparar a matar a todo aquel que tratara de cruzarlo, dividió Alemania, dividió Berlín por decenios. 

Dividió el mundo tambien el de la llamada Guerra Fria entre los dos bloques, el comunista, y el capitalista de occidente.


Y si, las diferencias son evidentes entre esas dos ciudades llamadas Berlín que nos muestran los contrastes que hay entre una forma de entender la vida y otra absolutamente distinta.

Comunismo y Capitalismo, salvajes ambos, pero absolutamente diferentes.





Los Alemanes, los habitantes del actual Berlín no tratan de olvidar el pasado, no se olvidan de las dos Alemanias partidas y divididas por una absoluta lluvia de bombas que asolaron por completo el antiguo Berlín y  el resto de la Alemania gobernada por un loco dictador, elegido en democracia por su pueblo cegado por las promesas de un loco soñador asesino de masas.

No es el único, la historia está plagada de ellos, pero este junto con Stalin superaron en crueldad y maldad ciega cualquier estadistica de los genocidas que en la historia ha habido.


El pueblo Alemán desea conservar ciertos restos de la destrucción y el pasado está ahí, a la vista, con edificios que son propios del mundo comunista de antaño. 

Feas colmenas de pisos proletarios, y colmenas supuesta mente lujosas de los jerarcas socialistas.

Solares, ruinas achacosas, fábricas abandonadas, restos de edificios que fueron bombardeados y que subsisten como recordatorios de lo que fue la gran destrucción de una única y enorme ciudad.

A nivel personal mi impresión ha sido de desconcierto ante la gran diferencia que he observado entre las dos ciudades absolutamente diferentes que aúnan lo que ahora es la capital de la República Federal de Alemania. 





No es una ciudad, son dos o probablemente más, y la sensación al observar el paisaje, las casas, los pequeños núcleos de población, o los grandes, es que siguen existiendo DOS DIFERENTES MUNDOS, DOS Alemanias que pugnan por unificar sus estructuras y los diferentes mundos y mentalidades forjados a lo largo de decenios de represión e injusticia continuada. 







************************

Visitando Dresde uno observa que la ruina subsiste aún, grúas por doquier, edificios increíblemente lujosos, barrocos, bellos, están junto a  solares donde se construyen y restauran joyas arquitectónicas destruidas por decenas de miles de toneladas de bombas incendiarias que causaron la total destrucción de una joya de la cultura occidental y cientos de miles de muertos, abrasados, aplastados por el bombardeo masivo, absurdo, incomprensible de los aviones aliados que machacaron una y otra vez una ciudad joya y orgullo de la cultura histórica del ser humano.

La guerra contra los nazis estaba ganada y el bombardeo de Dresde fué inmisericorde destruyendo una ciudad única y matando a la mayoria de sus habitantes.



Y lo curioso o chocante fue que durante la primera guerra mundial la ciudad permanecio intacta, siendo al final de la Segunda Guerra Mundial cuando el golpe fue destructivo y absurdo. 

En febrero de 1945, apenas doce semanas antes de la capitulación de la Alemania nazi, Dresde fue objeto de una serie de bombardeos que desencadenaron una tormenta ígnea que redujo a escombros su centro histórico.

El ataque aéreo de los aliados sobre Dresde sigue siendo uno de los episodios más polémicos y controvertidos de la Segunda Guerra Mundial.

Fotothek df ps 0000010 Blick vom Rathausturm.jpg


Mi viaje ha continuado por otras ciudades de Alemania, pero eso es otra historia para contar en la próxima entrega.


el gatufo