L or worse
is not memory loss,
but my last
not remember me.
Other Concerns - Luis García Montero
E n this post I will not talk about my children, but her mother or rather of the buried woman who has become invisible under the "mother."
And suddenly I'm not that. Many years yet lives hanging by a thread, so many months without taking your eyes of my children that I lack eyes because I was always missing something, and when I look up I am with you.
Offhand unannounced show, I look up, my eyes tired and I do not believe it is not possible ...
My engine internal search a review recognition and authentication. If you are, no doubt or escape.
In front and suddenly I've seen in the mirror of your eyes cruel, violent, treacherous and scrutinizing blank your eyes fixed, the eyes of the past that kept women in their retina that one day I went ... when I thought beautiful.
Wear hair up to hide it, for lack of time until Saturday I can not go to retouch these gray cookies to certify my age and strive to hover insistent plating my forehead and my face so quickly that every time I find it harder to hide them ...
If hide ... because they are like a banner cruel passage of time I wither and deform me much more cruel that the wrinkles ... it clear that I have and each day a little more pronounced. The oval of her face like so many things in my body is giving way to gravity, and inch by inch I'm fading away.
Subtle curves and small waist have grown old with me, moving its evocative descriptions by less delicate and short antonyms and even my small chest in a display of harmonizing my new forms has decided to increase a size, always wanted to have this size but now in this new old body and I do not like.
Standing and forehead with this cruel reflection of me. A treason and stripped of makeup or lip rouge or a bad stroke of blush, even a touch of mascara or having amended the first line of kohl pencil.
Hasty as usual this morning after showering I got dressed fast, too much to stop now look at me as a tyrant in the mirror that reflects what you've come to see and point-blank surprise and who no longer cares about the protocols, and with a reproachful tone reminded me about the age of fifty ... unworthy of you of who you were before, when I was that.
For pity me remind you that no, it will still be 48 when that meeting as saying that after tomorrow, but the image of disapproval to give me back my statement into exile, the eviction of the youth gardens of Don still believed to live in one of the last corners.
The curtain fell and he raised their migratory flight forever that sweet bird of youth.
Today and forever lost that streetcar named desire, I have been deported to the country of transit, that no man's land where we are still not old but certainly not young, but perhaps invisible. A place for those who feel in-like I feel today, I've lost my youth capital, my fortune, I inherited and the one you love with diets and gave careful attention when any great benefits and even splurged not , finished my time to treasure.
now and forever youthful feel like I'm ruined.
The eviction took her letter written on your face when you disappeared in the mirror and I was not, was that they just admit, that it takes time looking in the mirror, when I looked askance for not realizing what was going on: the embezzlement that life was carrying on my physical assets. 
suddenly in the mirror at me in front of which I've seen without makeup, with my thousand sleepless nights and a day, and I think that age and finally, after many struggles I've won the game.
And okay, I'll have to accept what I have. Abandonment count my possessions, my flow of youth. It is useless to continue covering the life when life has just given me such a review.
But then to go out of my new self conscious, turned into a real person without arrogance or fantasies of loopholes in bloom, looking obsessively time makes known the people I meet but time and life is not equal for all and as a lifeguard echo the words of a wise friend in medicine who recently told me that in these years I've lived not one but two or three lives at once.
So many things have happened! And now it seems that every one had passed over me.
traveled many paths like grooves in my skin.
had to be banned explicit eyes, those who suddenly get shot point blank and the last glimmer arrebatándote blue illusion that you were going left of saving with your memories of those times when you thought you princess.
-reflection may enemy, if you were here 5 years ago or 5 kilos, if you had warned were coming, cruel mature now I look at it from the other side as a ghost would have been able to return to deceive you with tricks and accessories for women. But you caught me by surprise and suddenly the light of day, in a decisive moment and I always become a princess in Cinderella.
One morning
The years speak much,
and lie more than talk.
But one day they wake up bottomless
with sincerity in the mirror,
and say what they know without knowing what they say.
Never mind the wrinkles.
I refer to another kind of show
more sordid, cruel
human humiliation,
derangement Finally
between form and content.
Although they are coming,
suddenly understand why
of dawn supported
body along with discussions.
I speak to you
the beautiful faces
cold and physicians.
On the outskirts of privacy
sad that hurts the grass begins in the ruins.
Aging
is a job search
in a difficult melodrama
that no conviction.
sometimes get,
but we must devote even time
which is not available.
you better, repeat the greeting.
Lost Desires
working within us,
as filmmakers who prefer
assurance a happy ending
and young stars.
Eyestrain the book of Luis García Montero.
0 comments:
Post a Comment