Cuento.
Todas las mañanas; ¿sabes?, repetir la espuma cubriendo el rostro. Y así, casi la vejez de sólo una imagen con barba de jabón. Luego ese empecinamiento por manejar la filosa navaja, que contagiada de nieve, va develando la cara nueva. Entonces, las arañitas asomándose como buscando el sol, mirándome desde esa posición tan de costado. Y en ese desparpajo de piernitas negras; the innocent figure of them, such as ferns hanging from the inside of my ears attentive looking, looking.
is inevitable that your legs grow and grow, and I can not pasearme with ears full of them, like plants hanging from a balcony. And in that constant presence that I warn an alleged friendship beyond our differences: Oh, little spiders in the caves of my ears ...
But fate is inescapable. So every three or four days should I do: I take his legs, (with that cold executioner's own decision), and extend one by one, while the right hand shake with the sharp knife to refine the direction, then I cut the legs without hesitation. Immediately get restless, their mutilated limbs flutter and retreat into the caves of my ears, until the sore will disappear. Only a few days ... Every morning the spies, I watch through the mirror. What do you think very stubborn?: The return to pull the legs out of my ears. My acoustic caves overflowing again. But I know, I know! I feel an explicit apology. However, while pretending not to see them leave, "the very treacherous again displaying legs and not happy with the limits reached, grow, grow and grow ...
why mutilate, so the tortured, you know, for learn to live, not to be displayed. But they want the sun, the light, so of life. I confess that I fear his canvases. Awakening wrapped in cloth, somewhat worse, with the web inside my head with thoughts changed. That's why mutilate. And in that transformation without ceasing, in the daily sacrifice, is the return to be re them, showing their ability to rebel, to peer with new life, with shiny black legs near the prison of my ears.
Now I know that the mark positions mutual slaughter, cut and let it grow, I drive a balance so necessary to keep them in confinement, on the edge, and I that while the executioner, so to them ... ---
Debans Copyright Norberto Alvarez. Reproduction is authorized publication in the field of Internet, in academic papers, mentioning the author and the Blog.
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