Awareness and estrangement
The first memory I have of the world are Muscat grapes, a circular table on the terrace of a strange house and a collarbone, my left collarbone, broken.
- These Grapes ... I think they're mine!
is the first time I hear my voice. Consciousness, the strange property of the spirit to be recognized as subjects of their attributes, just landed in my mind. Before that time I basically did not exist as a subject.
- Are Grapes I think they are mine? Demo d'or Pequenho O! Grapes takes, takes, "says someone, maybe Lydia, and everyone laughs.
But I do not want grapes, I just think they are mine, though I do not know at all which means that something is mine.
- What's for dinner? - Ask my brother.
- Peas with bikes!.
'm dizzy, I feel that my brain is exploding in myriad kaleidoscopic. What is that peas and bikes? I do not understand. Bicycle peas ... peas ... peas with bikes bikes ... but ... I do not understand how ?...¡!. Nuns
Violators Leads
my brother weird carnival, closely followed by Fernando (the German cross-eyed) and Javier Ignacio, whom we have given the nickname of Moscow's secret. I go back five steps. Although only 20 months older a world of experience between us. Usually always try to give me the slip, such is the disgust that I generated my company imposed, as little brother represent the world of innocence and naivete of that they try to escape, I noticed yesterday, when I get home alone, terrified, panting tired by race:
- What happened? Why are not with your brother?
"Because we were going to buy fireworks, but as we had to walk past a nunnery ...
for violating the scandalous laughter of my mother I discovered that it was all a trick orchestrated by my brother in connivance with their friends get rid of me. It appears that there is in Badia, the nunnery such violators. Although completely ignored which is a nun, and even more in that is the concept of rape, the union of the two terms in harmony grotesque enough to helarme blood. It is possible that there are no nuns violators in Badia, everything has been a fable designed to scare me by my brother and me back home, but I'm sure there are anywhere else, and that sooner or later come to find me. Regret and guilt
Today nothing seems to testify animosity towards me. We walked the 4 animated tasty sausage slices of bread with butter and jam to have dyed peach and strawberry remembrance of those everlasting summers. Javier Ignacio is the owner of the shotgun pellets, and therefore to him to shoot first and instruct in the use of the weapon. Fernando put the watermelon, previously stolen from your own fridge, in the scree. It has 20 steps and draw a line with your heel. Javier Ignacio
points to the watermelon and shoot. A green and red pop realizes his success. The next hit is Fernando. Also my brother's lead atina fruit. It gives me the shotgun and the advantage of closer proximity to the watermelon. Point and shoot without too much conviction. My brother drops dead.
- But you have done? You killed him! Murderer!
- you must go away before the police come. If you are caught will take you to the electric chair!
I did not want ... it was an accident ... but I killed my brother shot in the temple. Blame me upset. I can not go home and reveal to my parents that I have committed a criminal act ... No longer a place for me, I am a fugitive identified with the stigma of Cain.
Repentance and redemption
is night. I am in the gardens that separate the Badia City Autonomous University of Barcelona. In my little world of 1 km2 there is no place more unfathomable that these arcane clandestine orchards, shelter and comfort from the gallows criminal. The infant sneak Cain that I've transformed hides in the roughness of the breña. In the distance, lights engineered forged in fires, mysterious howling, barking hounds, sirens atoning slipstream, unknown voices pronounce my name ... It's all about. The hunt is over, I am tormented martyr of your electric chair.
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