Obsession vs. Oblivion

The shrine. A frightening vision. Hundreds of pictures in the walls. Dolls. An altar with candles. In a secret, dusty room, in the attic no one used for decades. A creation of a disturbed mind, paranoid and possessive, jealous and envious, sick, contaminated by an escalating obsessive nature, yet at the same time full of adulation. A character anyone could so easily condemn. The same devious character that would be proud enough to report his feats in a diary, as noteworthy acts or achievements. The same diary that would witness, register and document secrets, routines and facts of one's intimate nature. I decide to open it and read it.

"I watched you today, as it has been each morning for the past 457 days. That shadow in the dark corner you try to disclose is me. The one that calls and never speaks is also me. I want to breathe when you do. Hack your e-mails. Divert your calls. Delete your voice messages. Know all your security codes and passwords. Your birthday. Slice all your pictures and separate your body from everyone else in it. A Renoir waits in desperation in my naked wall, a big divan rests, and a waltz agonizingly holds itself in contempt, postponed until we join at our rewarding dance. I want to isolate you from the world and bring you to my own. And I am close, so close. Very close..."

I see you now, handcuffed, your dreams shattered, turned to dust, as you watch them fade into nothing. But reality tells me you will also sink in oblivion. You won't get to open your best bottle of wine, that you have kept for that special moment. And in the end, I will be holding her. And I'll tell her: "Baby, it's all over."

Soul on fire...The New World

The wind whispers a woman's name, just like some 1960's icon once sung. A parallel world seems to have risen overnight. The streets are pleasant pathways, broad gardens that lie before us. A huge screen presents the image of the Counsellor.

"Fellow citizens, we have come a long way. Our dark days are nothing but a faded remembrance, distant and pale. Behold the progress perceptible to one's eye, in absolute peace. We sail placid waters. We are witnessing unprecedented events in History. We have extirpated all the vices and seeds of evil that were available to everyone, polluting our society. Freedom of expression under the most various forms is a reality. Comfort and safety are a common practice among us. We can now travel to distant galaxies and visit the depths of the ocean. We achieved great discoveries in medical and technological research. Famine and violence aren't the perpetual thorns that used to haunt us in the past."

Cars are hoovering in suspended highways, surrounding the giant glass urb, shielded from radiation by the big bubble that protects us from every light wavelength shorter than 4000 angstrom units. A shrill beeping sound suddenly echoes. I open my eyes. I'm still in bed.

Soul on fire...

Zap, zap, zap. Another soap, another sitcom, the same lousy movie or some crappy pop video. One more sport event. Another ringtone. Another news flash about how fucked up things are in Middle East, how many forests are burning, how many glaciers are melting at this very moment. So many things requiring our attention at the same time, all with the purpose of feeding our ego with vague promises. Whatever. I turn the TV off. I rip the fuckin' chord.

My hamster is in its cage, running inside its wheel. I have put it next to the window, but it seems to never pay any attention to the sights. The sights of the glass jungle. The sight of tiny matchboxes, all lit, each one representing at least one soul burning.

I decide to roam the streets. The neon avenues ramify like an octopus, spreading its tentacles. The shiny megalopolis nearly engulfs the suburbs, like an overflowing river. A profusion of scents emanates from every orifice, open door or window, every man or woman. A big, constant rumble echoes in the air, as I hear the speech of tongues, car horns and sirens, laughs and cries. Next, the bus. The rail. The subway train. Sudoku, newspapers, mp3 players, handheld game consoles. No one is talking.


Remember when I told you I dreamed of going to the other side of the world? Well, I just got us three tickets to paradise...You, me and my hamster...

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