NOWHERE - the final countdown

 So, it's night, and here I go, treading along this cracked tarmac road uphill downhill non stop. This is, it's been ages since I left that big fire plowing through the mountains, but guess what, we still can decry one or other ruined pavilion if we look back through the darkness. But, better no, better do not look back, better just keep the march... And, then, let's say, those little stones rolling under my feet and jumping to the sides, they give a sense, an order, a meaning, I mean, they communicate in between them, and possibly, they are here to teach us the way, and so, then, as it goes, we can hear something, something coming from far away, from the heaths and the marshes, further, beyond the curtains of smoke, this is, first just a squeaky voice, more like a murmur, some sort of miserable pleading sound that progressively becomes a full range canine orchestra with baritones, sopranos, and sopraninos sounds coming from downstream, east and west. Possibly, stray mutant dogs, shadows of agony, fury and trance, announcing the presence of a stranger - my presence, your absence. This is, the smell of my blood momentarily awaking the sins of the world, and you, just there, dreaming with a possible enemy, a possible savior, who will know the color of the beast. But I keep on the line, as it comes it also goes. This is, time passes and the voices begin to decay, to lapse, and so, the barks and the yelps are actually now turning into distant howls... Until that, finally, they are gone, and, the silence reigns again, just eyes remaining… So, another age passes, and there at the top, at the top of the slope, I see, you see, a lamppost waiting for me, waiting for us. And so, now, I slow down the march a bit, and then, while scratching my head I look back, but, nothing irregular I see, until that, just then,  when I turn my head again to the lamppost there at the top of the hill I see... more like a... this is, there you are, waiting for me… waiting for us, and, then, as I approach, yes, I get the confirmation, it's true, it's you here(there) sitting on the top of this rock under this lamppost waiting for us. But what a heck, we look so similar, I would say that, it's me here not you,  but,  guess what... now, slowly, the thing gets down from this same rock, and while approaching, moving their rubber legs smoothly, and then, looking at the top of myself, while me, are also staring inside “its” silhouette. And then, somehow whatsoever, what looks like a bob hat comes up with the warm wind and lands right here on muddy floor between the two of us, and, without losing more time, I'm the one already advancing two or three paces and then, stepping on the brim of this same hat that have just fallen here, between us two, and, as I do it,  you, “the thing”, whatsoever, also doing the same moves as me, this is, also stepping over the brim of this same hat. And so, here we are now, face to face, the noses almost touching, the eyes getting bigger, and thus, only now I can realize that, despite our similarity, we are not really the same. And so, as it goes, a few seconds of disturbed silence follows… until that…  - So what!? - What so!? Who is it? - Yes, what is what?!  - I'm what!  - You are what?  - Yes I'm what gives the what… - You are what gives the what? - What what what!? - But, what the heck! - The question is… - Who is what? - Let's put it like this… I'm this - Not a big thing I see… - And so, what are you doing here? - Same as you, just watching the sights... - And why you say it like that? - Because my vocal chords so wish... - Oh, with much certainty you speak! - Yes dear, I have the truth on my side… - But what truth? - The real truth what! - I see, you feel like a beast and speak like an animal. - An animal at least does not have to bother with reasoning. - Oh yeah, and how do you know? - A dog can rest in peace... - And do not you rest? - No, I'm afraid of hurting the flowers. - Hum, good one, good one... but you might know that suffering is inseparable from life. - I know, I know, but... - And what else do you know? - I know your intentions are not worthy... - Why not worthy? - Because I see, all you want is to explore, to flip, to confuse... - And what's unworthy in that? - Your goal is destruction… - You are wrong mate! I'm just trying to find the way to the sand-castle… - Ok, and why do you think I can help you? - You're already  helping… - Hum, It's good to be useful... - And what more can I do for you, brother? - Can you, for example, help me take off these boots? - Sure, now, just sit down here and stretch your leg. - What about the flowers around? - Look! You care about the steps you're going to do and you do not care about what is already beneath your feet! - I wish I could float… - No need to be so naïve, mate! We can solve it other way... - As? - If you get on that tree over there and hang yourself from one of its branches I easily can do the job you need me to do. -  And then what will you do with the boots? - What you want me to do with them? - Can you make them disappear? - I'm not a magician, but maybe I can bury them in a hole and... - I do not intend to rummage the earth... - So I can perhaps hide them underneath the dried leaves... - But they would still exist... - I can set them on fire... - Maybe that's a good solution... - So let's do it. Can you move towards that tree now please? - And the flowers? - I will carry you on my back. - No, I won’t let you touch me… - So, nothing done… - That's right, nothing done, let's forget all this, I myself have already forgot these boots... - And will you be here forever? - I'll stay here until I find a reason... - But I need you to come with me... - Hell! Where do you want me to go? - Precisely to the sandcastle... - Now? - Perhaps... - And why do not you go alone? - Because only you can help me to find the way. - What makes you think so? - The reason is stamped on your face... - What with my face? - I see you carry the key in you. - Sure? Inside or out? - In and out. - And what's going on that sand-castle? - The freedom lives there... - Hum, so this is your point, freedom? - True! - And what will I get for me? - You will get the truth. - Fast forward! - I can't now... - But why can not you? - Uncertainty just took over, sorry... - But your purpose is freedom, and I'll lead you to it... - I do not fully trust in you, now!  And why don't you trust if the truth is with me!? - I feel that the uncertainty is stronger than the truth... - I felt like that just now and I do not feel no more... - Do you feel free? - I'm able to move on... - And are you able to do it alone? - No, because the castle is an invention of yours. Without you, there is no castle... - So you believe that my fantasy is real? - I believe that its all the same... - And do you believe freedom awaits for me? - I believe.... - And if I get the freedom thing what will you get? I will take hold the treasure hidden in the castle...  - And your boots, will them not hinder your going? - I will now strip them off. - And no more afraid of hurting the flowers? - No, actually, now I feel full of courage. - Calm down, calm down... it looks that we no more need to go... - Oh my... but why!? - Because freedom is about to come here right now... - Oh and there she comes... - Yes, and there she goes! - Can't not! - She went without even notice us...     - Oh my  totally lost we're now... - Let's go after she, after it... now... - No no and no. We were expected to meet in the castle... - Maybe she will come back... - Come back to where? - To the castle... No, there is no more any castle, without freedom there is not any castle... - Look, there must be castle, because I'm the key that will lead you to the castle... - Exactly, freedom carry with she the castle, where it goes, the castle will go... - And have you seen any castle passing by? - No, you are the one that should have seen it, because you are the guide! - I haven't seen anything... - But which function have the truth if you are blind? - Maybe the truth is that blind… - Well! And now? - Now I do not know who am I! - You are the one underneath that hat. - And you, you are... you are the one above these boots right!? -  Certainly! - And will you still be able to help me? - Yes I will help you to rebuild the castle... - Forget it, I no longer want to hear about any castles... - So you no longer need me? - No, you can go! - But I was already here when you came... - And? - And this is my territory. - It's so yours as mine. - Not true... - And what do you know about truth? - It was I who brought the truth to you. - Maybe, but now the owner of the truth is I... - And what will you do with that truth? - I still do not know well... I have to think! - Would you like me to take off your boots so you can be more accurate in your own thinking? - No need. - Are you still afraid of hurting the flowers? - I don't know! - So you no longer going anywhere? - Why should I go? - You may want to go after freedom... - No, the one that wanted to go after her was you... - Well, I don't need that now. - Why not? - Because now I myself am freedom. - Well said but then, who was that beauty that passed by here minutes ago? - Actually I think it was the despair! - Oh the despair is also a woman? - True! - If it is true or not isn't your business, truth is my knowledge... - And what do you know? - I know you not going anywhere without me... - Shut up! I'm freedom, I go where I want… - Then go. Why don't you go? - I do not feel like going now, my desire is to stay here, enjoying the views... - Freedom do not does things like “enjoying views”... - That is me who decides... - Freedom does not make decisions. Decisions are made by reason! - Don't tell me, the reason now is you? - Exactly! - And what do you decide? - I decide you are not liberty, you are the despair... - But haven't the despair passed by here just now? - No, who went through here was fraternity... - Oh my, Who is that? - That is the... is the harmony... - And why didn't it noticed us? - Because we are nothing but fools... - But you are the reason, and the reason is above the nonsense. - You're wrong, the reason is capable of the best and the worst... - Good thing she didn't stop, since I'm the despair I would rip her ass out of this world... - It's impossible to hurt the harmony! - You have no idea of what I'm capable now... - Oh yeah, what are you can be able of? - I can... I'm able to predict the future... - Hum, now you are a magician? - With complete safety and satisfaction! - And what do you foresee? - I predict that harmony will pass here again running... - I do not see anything coming… - You forget you are blind, the truth is blind... - Actually I'm not the truth my friend, been a long time I'm the reason... - And isn't it the same thing? - Do you think that, is the despair that leads to magic? - Shut up and watch! - Yes, there she comes... - See how she comes jaded! - God bless! And from what-which would such a creature flee? - Breaking out from my prophecy, I had predicted that she would become the chaos itself... - I would say she is all already an hiper-harmonious chaos... - You vision is ostensible, my fiend... - Sure I'm what is right! - Quickly you will be another thing... - Take good care of my destiny! - Now you are the falsehood! - That not, make attention, that I can... - You can what? - I can, I can kill... - Noesis? - I'm not the only one... - Is that an accusation? - You lied when you said to have the truth on your side, you lied when you asserted your freedom, you lied when you presented yourself in the role of the despair… - You the one that continues to lie, I was never the despair. Despair passed by here running and told me a secret... - What secret, you are an idiot... the one that passed by here running was the temptation! - And why should I believe you if I'm an idiot and you are lying all the time... - It was you who said that. But you are nothing more than a peon… - So who are you anyway? - Take atention, now I'm the beauty! That's it! - Oh dear! How do you justify that?  Hence my inability to hurt the flowers, hence my fickleness, hence here have passed three times, the running temptation... - But I do not think you're beautiful.... - You have to give me some time... - I do not believe in time.... - Look at your wrinkles and you will believe. - Why should I look at mine when I have yours in front of my eyes? - I do not have wrinkles, beauty have got no wrinkles, all I is just qualities! - You full of importance now.... - Look who's talking! You have taken yourself as a magician... - Again, I'm no more than what's under this hat. - Can´t see any hat now... - And the boots are gone too... - Damn, why are we still here? - Uffa, here where? - There in the shadows!! - Holy bitch! Fuck you and your shadows!!... - And you,  also fuck your shity pretentions and representations... - Yes, let’s fucking fuck everything... fuck-fuck-fuck!! - So, we are getting fucked now… bye bye!! 

NOWHERE - far away from everything

 Now, far away from everything, after some hours of walking along a series of forest roads, I get to this village, but I see no people, all is abandoned here. And so, in the meanwhile, as I pass in front of some convenience stores, the windows are actually covered with some large brown newspapers with news from the last century, and then, I walk by a hairdresser with posters containing haircuts from the old times, and then, I also pass a farmacy full of out-of-date chemical products inside. And as it goes, when I pass some gift shops with broken windows, I realize that there was some kind of looting here, and then, as I reach one of these ready-to-wear boutiques, with naked, dismembered mannequins inside, to my surprise, I see a real girls inside, this is, a girl with a fringe and shorts, here on the showcase, playing with one of these old mannequins. And so, here I halt, staring at this vision, and she, she even closes her eyes as she perceives my look. And so, then, all of a sudden, I’m already inside, and straight away I tell her that I recognize her from a dream. “Ah, what do you mean with that, stranger?”; she says, “Oh my dear, it's like seeing through water…”; “Really, and how am I like inside water?”; “I see your bright soul, tired of being trapped inside, it wants to fly, far away from here…”; “But, who do you think you are to say that, stranger?”; “Me? I'm like the clock sent through the washing machine, my dear, do you know about it?”; “Hum, I guess it tells me something... but from where are you coming, stranger, you might be coming from some distant place…”; “You are right my dear, I just arrived from the world's end, in truth I went there just to change my boots but…”; “Curious, I've also been to the world's end but I haven't seen you around there!”; “That's because I was there in a dark corner, recovering, but... now tell me, what could a beauty like you have to do in the world's end?”; “I went there to... buy some dresses!”; “And so, didn’t you find your number?”; “No, unfortunately I haven't found my right number there, nothing really fits me…” (and now as she says that I go towards her) “Listen dear, I know exactly who you are! I know!”; “Oh you know, so tell me who am I, and what am I doing here in this phantom town?”; “You're... that is, you're the queen of nooone!”; “ The queen of nooone? You mean, the queen of nothing? Oh! That is sad!”; “No my dear, it's not sad, one day we will meet again, please do not forget me…” And with this promise I retreat myself from there and run away from that phantom place. Thus, I go along these streets with no-people, this is, I pass the abandoned banks, the abandoned malls, and then out of this village I go, running across a field of red poppies now, still thinking about my queen of Nooone, my queen of Noone, my queen of None... and then, I can't advance no more... so, I just throw myself on the floor, crying and crying and crying… And so, still sobbing, I manage to climb through some mossy rocks until the top... and once there... I lay on the peak of these same rocks, staring at those white rails crossing the blue sky, and there, after much staring, I see her again, mounting those rails of light, and then, I come back to the road. I kept going along some provincial roads, surrounded by small forests and agricultural gardens, and thus, when the night comes, I jump into a yard on the back of some farm houses, in search of food. And, as I go through, I see the scarecrows looking at me flabbergasted, and then, I climb one of these fruit trees with fruits lit by the full moon, and guess what, I haven't eaten anything for days, so, these unknown fruits from the skies are tasting amazing. And also, I may say, the world from up here looks like an amazing place to be, and so, I take my time ingesting these gifts from the cosmos. And then, on the upper side of the yards, I also see some lights, and so, after quenching my hunger and thirst, down I come, and stealthy I move along this flabby cultivated land, and there I go, approaching some of those farm houses with light on the windows. And so, here I’m now, protected by some shrubs on the fence, I spy the insides of one of these illuminated windows. So, effectively, from here I can see a proper family in the dining room, man, woman, and children. And now I see, the kids messing with some stuff under that same table and the mother is warning them, but they don't stop. Then, the man is admonishing the woman and the woman is threatening the man. Thereupon, the man stands up and hits the children. And as it goes, at some point, I decide to throw some stones at their window and quickly I get off. Then, there I go, running along the yard, jumping the fences and coming back to the road, a different road now, made of cracked tarmac, a village road. And as I go through, there are some yellowish lights here and there, but no people. And many abandonments, many rotten houses. And so, here I go now, walking through this apparently abandoned village, still thinking about my Queen of None, and then, more into the center of this town, I find the fire brigade building, and I see, there are some lights inside, so, I decide to try my luck, and therefore, I press a button by the main gate, and afterwards I can hear real bells ringing inside, and so, after a while someone comes to see me at the gate, first one, then two, after a group of them. At first, the peace soldiers do not understand my language, so I have to make some signs with the hands in order to pass my message, but even this way they still do not understand me, so someone goes back to call the transmissions man, and here he is now, a pale dude that can speak some dozens of languages and also understands about sign language, and so, I’m happy now, finally someone that could understood me, and then he kinda tells me that this village is cursed, so that's why almost everybody emigrated. And to this I just say “that isn’t a problem to me, I’m some kind of gosh too”. So, then, this man starts to talk in other 4 kinds of languages, maybe testing me, and me also speaking  different idioms, we both testing each other. And while we establish communications, the other firemen, around a dozen, are standing there, on our back, looking at me and to the translator with some expectation. And of course, they all want to know who I am, and from where I come from, and what I’m doing here, or there. And so, taking his time, calmly the transmissions man turns to them and  starts to explain that I’m just some kind of vagabond looking for a place to stay, plus adding, that, I’m actually coming from far far away and so, I have just arrived here after weeks, months, years of hitching all around the world. And then, more he informs, to satisfy their curiosity, that I may be someone from the “Tauramataras, a extinguished country, now submerged under water”. And the peace-soldiers, amazed and bewildered by this accounting from their brother-in-law, there they go, opening their way in order to make me get in their palace, actually a huge pavilion with corrugated metal walls. So, here I go now, getting inside this large living-room decorated with ancient fire tools and big photos, like puzzles, photos of the men combating the fire. So, instantly, they make me sit on a big table, and they bring me food, drinks, desserts, and I eat this and that, and there they are, staring at me, munching, while making all kinds of questions about my identity. And so, the transmission man is still here, making all kinds of needed translations. And, to answer their questions, among other things, I said to be some kind old-fashioned messenger, I carry messages from country to country, from the past to the future. And the soldiers, intrigued with my exposing, now want to know more about these messages, but I just say that these are all secret messages, I can’t expose it like that… nevertheless, maybe I could give some advice to them, personalized advice to each of them. And very much they liked this idea, so into a private room they take me, in order to receive each one of them individually… And so, said and done, as it goes, to the first one that comes in my advice is “You should completely change your life, leave your house and leave this place, because danger will be coming soon.” And to the next one I say “Do not worry no more about what others may think or not think about yourself, do it as you please”. And to the next one I suggested “Be less arrogant with yourself and with the others around, and you will be loved again”. And to the fourth I say “Go and look for God”. And the fifth, I advised him to “Study the water and the sky”. And to the sixth I suggest “Pay more attention to your dreams, and you will see what is missing…” And to the seventh “The only true love is the love at first sight” And to the eighth I write a message in a paper and tell him to deliver it to a person of his choice on the streets, far away from here. And to the ninth I say “Stop eating bullshit”. And to the tenth I counseled some good black and white movies, like Tarkovsky, Bergman, Polanski. And finally to the translator I confessed the truth, “I’m just an impostor, you know, I know that you know!” and he also confesses to be not so different from me... and so, up we go, into the bedrooms area, bedrooms with bunk beds, where other guys are already sleeping, and as we get in he tells me that I can choose my bed, my bunk, and so, I can choose to lay on the top bed or on the bottom one, as I prefer, and of course, I chose one of the top 5 beds. Afterwards, they give me some clothes, a towel and they tell me where the shower room is. And so, there I go, with that new clothes under my arm, moving into the shower room. And once there, it is very difficult to regulate the temperature of water, but after I managed to do it, I don't want to leave, I want to stay there forever, thinking about life, thinking about where I have been and where am I going, thinking about how I came here, thinking about all this quaint people I have met, and then, as usual, thinking about that desert where I came from, the sky falling over the dunes, and me being absorbed by all that digital machinery. And then, thinking about my queen of None, thinking about our meeting… thinking about when and where I would meet her again. And then I wake up, and come back to my bunk, I try to sleep, but I can't, because there are some other guys whispering in the the beds around, and, as I hear them now, I remember the times I passed in that encampment under the bridge, this is, I remember the black brothers whispering non sense things all night, while injecting strange powders in their veins, and then I sleep. And while I sleep I have a dream. In this dream I see myself holding a gorilla mask, going up a slope along a narrow street with bent buildings on both sides. And as I get to the top of this lane, I start to hear people ranting and singing, and I recognise some voices, they look like voices from people from my hometown. People murmuring, maybe happy in this or that moment, some fallen on the lawn, looking at the sky falling over while others are spitting on their falling heads. Some kissing, others pissing at the back of trees in the small gardens in front of the commercial houses where I’m now with my gorilla mask on. "And I got two loves... Uh Uh Ahuuu… that are in no way the same... Uh Uh Ahuuu!...” I sing as I pass through these people “and I'm not sure I’m not sure... Uh Uh Ahuuu!.. If they are fictional or unreal… Uh Uh Ahuuu!..” I keep babbling, while doing a series of pirouettes among the bohemian passers-by who walk between the commercial houses and the small gardens on the front of it, and then, while punching my chest, I proceed “and I'm not sure! I’m not sure Uh Uh Ahuuu!.. which one I like the best Uh Uh Ahuuu!..” Then, as I keep stuttering these things, three pink-faced girls walk away from me, apparently frightened, but still laughing with nervousness. And now I get to a small group of intellectuals students dressed in black, one with some kind of studied beard and pointed shoes, saying “Relativity only exists with knowledge of the absolute, but...”, “but but but I'm not sure... I’m not certain Uh Uh Ahu... the absolute or the relative…” I troll “which one I like the best after all... Uh Uh Ahu… Uh Uh Ahu… the doctor and the engineer... which one more equivocal” and the students walk away. Now, I listen some bongos, and as I turn, I perceive that I’m not the only one, I have competitors, this is, standing by the entrance of one of the bars, a young man with green hair plays guitar in a fast and clumsy way, and the other one on the floor is playing the bongos, and another one with a lot of piercings on his nose and cheeks snarls phrases like “everybody goes to the fuck, everybody goes to the fuck; put your hands in the air… put your heads on the floor… everybody goes to the fuck… we're all going to the fuck”, and next to this trio of rickety musicians, there are some more tattered-looking boys or girls staggering and dancing or dancing like staggering while the music goes on, mistreating each others, and then, hugging each others, effusively, and there are some others asking money to who is entering and leaving this bars on their back, and one is saying something like “the monkey likes bananas, the monkey likes bananas, but what I like more is vanilla” a phrase that particularly amuses me, and so, as I get close to them, they all start pounding their fists on their chest, making fun of my gorilla appearance, what that also amuses me. And so, then, as I try to get in 6 one of these bars, the security guard promptly appears  warning that "you can't be inside with this mask on", to what I reply "I can't be here masked as much as you can't be here with that horns on your head” and suddenly everything turns misty, this is, I just got hit. And so now I'm being kicked and dragged across the floor, and all in a sudden the punks that were outside surrounding that bad guitar player, they come over and try to defend me, and those who were inside playing snooker also come over here armed with their sticks ready to defend the securityman and then there are chairs and tables flying around, this is, they are all fighting and me crawling under the tables, and those who were outside on the sidewalk, are now trying to get in and those who were inside are now trying to get out, people pushing each others, and in the middle of all this the securityman disappears, and then, there is a lot of oil in the toilet room, and some kids, that actually are reminiscences of the kids from my hometown, are doing skate inside the toilet, and some kind of aggressive music is blaring from speakers apparently installed under their skates, and as they pass by I go and wash the blood from my mouth on the sink, staring at my face in the mirror, and here now I see myself laying at that bunk bed again, waking up in a jolt with  sirens blaring all around, and the skaters are leaving now, and the security man that hit me before are now coming in the toilet, but I’m no more there, I'm back to the fire station and the punks I saw in the street beating their fists against their chests are now here dressed as firefighters, I mean we’re again in that room from the firebrigade station, and there's a lot of hustle and bustle all around, the sirens continue to wail and everyone is running, dressing their overalls, gathering their tools, getting ready to go into the terrain and do some firefighting, and me looking at all this, still lying on that bunk, not sure what I should do, if I should also stand up, or stay here, and then the translator man also comes in, bringing me also some equipment, and so, I get dressed and down I go, sliding through the rod installed in the middle of this room as you have seen in certain movies. So, already downstairs, as I get to the main gate, someone passes me a proper helmet, a pair of gloves and a thermic lunch-box... well, I’m not sure if that is really a lunch-box, maybe some kind of tool-box, but so… Now everybody is entering into the camions... and also me, I’m being pushed inside, and when the camion is already on the move, I see my translator, outside, not equipped, on the door, waving bye byes to me and the others, and me also waving bye byes to him and a couple of elders on his side... and my comrades here inside the truck, are actually making fun of his figure... making me questions I can’t understand and so, there we go, getting off the road now, and following along a winding dirt path, this is, we are getting closer and closer the flames, and as we approach we can already smell the smoke, and so, at this point, my comrades here on my side are already making me sigs, teaching me how to use the smoke masks etc, and then, as we arrive, I instantly help them to unwind and extend the hoses, but, when the water comes, there I so, running away from them, going down, in between the mountains covered with smoke, this is, as I advance I see blazes crossing the sky over my head, and then,  as I keep going down, I even bury myself in the mounds of ashes.

NOWHERE - hitchhiking to the moon

 Last days  I have been picking a lot of rides, all of them, more or less in tune with the forces and wills of the universe and as I usually accept what the universe has to offer me, where my drivers wanted to take me, I accepted it,  and, because of that, I have no idea where I’m now, but, who cares? In the beginning, when I started hitchhiking, I was caught by some silent people, people that didn't want to know who I’m or where am/was I going, and for a while that was ok for me. But then, I was picked by people interested in my destiny, drivers interested in this personage of mine, so, in order to mislead, in order to fulfill their curiosity, I had to create some biographical data, some scattered things, etc. I didn't always tell the same story, and because I speak several languages, plus some other invented ones, I could pass as Caucasian, as Beltran, Sicran or whatsoever. Therefore sometimes I said to be the fruit of an incest between the moon and the sun, or that I had come from the Caribbean in a ship made of tin, or that was just arriving from the World War III, or that was I escaping from the evil yet looking for work in the fields, willing to work with the red fruits, or climbing lampposts. Or perhaps was I/ I’m, a mere lawless tourist making his way through the new world. And I remember, one of the first rides I took was with a mature lady, hairspray overflowing, the car’s interior totally 3 decorated with various types of teddies, dogs without eyes, colorful monkeys with bells around the neck, pink cats, etc... and then I was picked up by some young man in a sporty car. He said to be a pharmacist and so, instantly, I asked him which was the best selling drug in his pharmacy, he said “It is the Aspirin, for sure, and the balm for insect bites, also”, which was funny to acknowledge. And he took me to some village with almost no people, some sleepwalkers, and a lot of empty buildings. Then I was taken in a van full of chips, chips being distributed from caffe house to caffe house, and the driver an effeminate man  who claimed to be the incarnation of kali, regarded himself as the ultimate manifestation of Shakti, the primordial cosmic energy, and the mother of all living beings. Then I was taken by a young woman, who was a student of economics. She told me that her father worked unloading pits. And I also got a ride with a couple highway workers, they took me to their office and showed me their treasures, all the little things they had been finding in the road ditches over the years. We shared alms. Then I got a ride with a couple on their honeymoon, they took me to the beach, and they used me as their photographer. And I got a ride with a small group of drug dealers, they made me try new things. And I also got a ride with a crazy truck driver that placed a bible in my lap while pressing the barrel of a gun against my temple, he forced me to read certain parts from the big book at his command, but, it turned out that the gun was fake, just a prop gun, that thing they use in the movies. This just to say some, some of the rides I had taken until now, the ones that stood out the most. Thus, now I’m a-board a posh vehicle accompanied some kind of philosophy teacher, at least that’s how he presents himself, and then, while looking at me, getting comfortable on this nappa upholstery seat, there goes the driver commenting something like this “by looking at you attire”, (and I’m actually wearing a dirty t-shirt, long shorts made from broken jeans and some ripped tennis), “...I sorta can read your lifespan, this is, it’s easy to see that, you weren’t properly loved as a child,  and so, probably, you got the habit of closing yourself in your own world… this is, for sure you passed too much time alone, and then, when you did grow up, this is, when you got through this teenage time, you became some sort of stranger, you start to hate the ones around you, you didn't like how they rebuked you, their seriousness, their morality, and so, you left… and here you are, looking for something…” and as he says that, I nod, making as agreeing and then, there are some silence between us, and, here we are, just facing the road, that is no more a road, just a 4  white line in the middle of all this blackness. And so, after a while, when I’m starting to close my eyes, there he goes again "when the future is threatening and uncertain... and there is the only retraction... a retraction of the present that is constantly being protected, arranged and recycled in an endless youth... and while putting the future in parentheses, the system proceeds... the devaluation of the past... impatient for cutting off the chains of territorialities and archaic traditions... impatience for instituting a society without a base of anchorage and opacity... this together with an indifference to the historical time, this leads to the collective narcissism of our time,  and so, a clear symptom of the generalized crisis of the bourgeois societies of today…” and, this is, as our interlocutor says those things I’m already sleeping, but still listening an enlarged echo of the last comment “an generalized crisis of the bourgeois societies of today…” and so, here I’m, already inside this recurrent dream of mine, with the sky falling over the desert, and my queen of none, one hand holding the lining of her wedding dress, running along the white corridors of the psychiatric hospital, that I also recognize, going up and down a staircase with flashing lights, and then going through some white corridors with white doors on both side… and so, now she tries to open some of these doors, sticks the head inside some of this white rooms, screams some interjections, and then, slamming door after door, there she goes, dragging her ragged and rumpled wedding dress along these corridors... and so, now she opens one of this door, and gently walks inside on her toes. And so, I see the insides, and there the light is dim and flickers, and, there is a soft candle-lamp installed in the middle of two unmade beds, and so, while she turns around, we can see a body in a corner, a shrunken body in fetal position, shaking and making a humming sound... but she don't turn to it, she rather approaches the unmade beds, smells the sheets and then, while looking under the bed, she whispers some words like "I've arrived, my love, I've come to pick you up… our vessel is ready, let's go now"; and "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu!” says a mouth under the bed. And so, there she goes again running through another corridor, turning right, turning left, climbing another flight of stairs, getting into another corridor and entering another room, and once inside, it’s the same picture as before, just this time the beds are occupied and their occupants are having a small talk about feelings that goes more and less like this "hate… well, hate is some kind of bug that some of us have in the stomach"; "Incorrect, it's not in the stomach that hate is lodged, it is in the exocrine gland"; "no, I already had it removed, and the doctors said that it was taken from my stomach"; "that's what they told you but…"; "but I also have seen it…"; "you have seen it… oh, so, which was its color?"; “I guess it was some kind of dark magenta…", "Magenta! That is not a color dear… that is a fruit… a rotten kind of fruit it is…” and here our queen of none intervenes "I bring you the good news, my friends…"; and one of that guys says right away "we already know that you are going to marry today, and at this point, you are actually looking for your broom, but, we told you already, we haven't seen him for a long time… we know nothing about him, so please, leave us alone!” And so, there she goes, our queen of none, ballerina shoes sliding along the corridors of this sort of hospital, going up another flight of stairs, turning right, turning left, already getting in another room, where the two beds are empty, perfectly arranged, and everything in the right place. And so, our queen of none searches inside the wardrobe, opens the dresser, even looks under the bed,  this before leaving and entering another room on the side, and here, someone seated on the bed, smoking, and  "What happened to those who were in the room next door? Were they discharged?", she demands, "Perhaps they have turned into flies and fled through the window", answered a dry kind of voice, from a man with no face. "And didn't they take you with them?”; "Why should they do that to me?" And again, there goes our queen of none, running towards the stairs, through the corridors, and then, she gets in another room. And here, there are fishing lights by the head of one of the beds, and so, we can see, two individuals rolled up in wrapping paper, jumping on the bed, this, while making some animist cries. And so, "What's going on here?"; she demands, "Today is St. John's night", "St. Anthony's night" corrects the other. "St. John," insists the first. And slowly, in slow motion,  our queen of nothing makes her way out, running through the corridors again, coming back to the stairs, and then, she approaches another room, she tries to open the door, but it doesn't opens straight away, it looks blocked by some object inside, and so, our queen of force it a bit more, and then, when finally she can open a breach of it, there are a sort of robotic voice, saying "you're too late, my queen, your fiancé is dead, he was very nervous because of the marriage, and so, we had to kill him in order to…”. And here I’m opening my eyes again, watching the road passing by, and hearing my driver again, I mean hearing the speech of this sort of philosophy teacher, “so, disruptions are becoming increasingly rare, and the truth is that, nowadays, the impression of déjà vu prevails over novelty, so, the new changes in society are getting monotonous, this is, we no longer have the impression of living in a revolutionary period... and there is a trend fall of the creativity rate on the vanguards, which coincides with the very difficulty affirmation of anyone being truly vanguardist... this is, the fashion of “isms” have passed, and so, 6 the noisy manifestations of other times are no more appreciated nowadays.. and thus, as in all great dichotomies, this one about the body and spirit is also getting greatly blurred, and so, the body is no more relegated to a status of material positiveness… opposing itself to an ana-cosmic consciousness of undecidable space... an object-subject, a floating mélange of  sense and sensor… this is, if the body and the conscience of it are exchanged, if the body, in the mat of the unconscious, speaks, we must love and listen to it, it must express and expand our conscience, and our conscience should become physical…” and then, as he says this things, I’m coming back to this dream passed inside the psychiatric hospital, where before my queen of none was going from door to door, looking for his broom, and so, at this point we are down, on the gardens annexed to the hospital, and actually, what is happening here is the funeral cortege of our broom, the one that was killed by some of of the patients, his roommates,  and so, here they go, under a heavy sun, dressed in pajamas, holding the coffin, and our queen of none, with a black wreath on her head, but still wearing her wedding dress, walking on the side of this procession. And the guys carrying the cardboard coffin on their shoulders are actually smoking big cigarettes, and also, showing a certain expression of tragicomic disdain. And so, now, there they go, arrhythmiccally moving towards the bottom of the gardens, where there is an olive grove, and so, around the coffin, around a dozen inmates are following the so said cortege,  and now, on the back of the coffin, we can see a very tall and thin man,  actually whistling a kinda happy-melancholic melody, while making two pan lids bump into each other, as if they were cymbals. And there is also a sort of a priest, following on the front of the cortege, making strang signs with his hands, pointing to heaven, and then, at some point the cortege stops, they put the cardboard coffin afloor, some move away, while others open the coffin lid, and now the widow approaches, touching the body, and through her face, runs only one tear… this while the tall man in the back is still whistling this sort of happy-melancholic melody, more softly now, and then, the widow gets off, and two guys, also dressed in pajamas, after throwing their cigarette butts on the floor, push the body up the olive tree, wedging it between two fat branches, and then, the priest opens the big black bock, supposedly  a specimen of the bible, says, stuttering “S’mael, the la-la-la, the la-maman, the lamama-nita, said to his people: Behold, I give you a sign, five more years will pass, and behold, the son of go-go-go-od will co-comeeee, to-to-to reeee-deem…redeem, and all who believe in his name - and be-hold, behol-de, I will give you a sign…” and so, as he says this words, the other inmates dispersal, and there stays our queen of none, laughing and laughing alone, and then she runs to the priest, still babling and stuttering, she grabs his neck, squeezing him tighter and tighter until he shuts up, and both end up on the ground, right next to that olive tree, where the dead man's body is hanging, now shivering a bit.

NOWHERE - leaving this town

So, now I enter on the first bus that stops in front of the commercial center, and, then, as I move to the last seat, I hear an old lady protesting about the weather, and then, an old man protesting about people that have the habit of protesting about the weather. And, as I move to the back seat, a young couple is kissing next to me, but then they get off at the next stop and a man with an umbrella comes and sits on my side. And, as I stare at him, I remember that dream inside the cellar-bar with people getting entangled with umbrellas at the entrance. So, I decide to ask him if he knows about that place and instantly he asks me what kind of idiot am I. I say that I'm a straight kind of idiot and he gets out at the next stop. This time, a woman with a dress 'till the knees comes to sit on my side. I ask her name and actually she tells it to me. Then I ask about her job and she tells me that she is a secretary. And I ask what she secretariats. And this time, she smiles but does not answer and then, she gets off on the next stop. So, the next one is a young dude with a cap. I look at his cap and he looks at my vision with intimidation. I look out. Silence follows. The bus goes around. Some people are dozing, other ones looking at their phone, other ones looking through the windows. Out of the city we go into the suburbs. And here, the square buildings are getting more diversified, less square, and the green fields turning brown, yellow. So, last stop, time to get off. And here I go now, following some pedestrians, going down into the subway entrance now. I watch the publicity on the walls, this is, I read the signs on the papers and I choose a direction, randomly. Already aboard the metro carriage, being squeezed against the masses, I try to accommodate myself. Everybody is touching everybody in silence. Dull expressions. I get out at some station and I change lines and then I enter another carriage going in another direction. Randomly. Following a natural order of the things. I watch people and their autism or small eccentricities. Some are playing with their phones. Some read books about exotic tourist destinations and self motivation like “The meaning of everything in the cosmos, for dummies”. But after a while, my curiosity is gone, my eyes are getting tired, the nervous system being lulled, saliva coming out through the corners of the mouth, and down I go, falling and falling, slowly, like if I’m falling from the earth onto the sky, in between the clouds, but I’m not afraid, and then “Que est ce la decadence?” I hear and as I open my eyes I can see a beggar passing through the carriage, and automatically I answer something silly about over-dancing. The beggar goes away, smiling, an evil kind of smile. The train stops, many people getting off, some of them with some big luggages, and I get off too. So, here I go, already running through tunnels with perfume advertisements, bank advertisements, travel advertisements... I go up through some different kinds of mechanical-stairs and suddenly when I reach the top, I see myself inside a super modern airport, and I’m already staring at the large departures timetable: LasPalmas / Paris / Dallas/ Tokyo / Melbourne / Düsseldorf / Frankfurt / Nice /TelAviv / Istanbul / Manchester / NewYork / Brusselles / Manchester / Johannesburg / Geneve / Stockholm / Prague etc etc and all this names say nothing to me. So, I go around through the airport's big hall, observing people, their impatience, and I even dare to make conversations with some of them... thus, I ask about their destinations, their goals in life... and some other more personal subjects, and yes, I get some answers and then I take the opportunity to also ask about some coins, I say “I also would like to go in holidays, 'cause afterall, I'm a son of God as 3 well…”, but unfortunately, after a while the security comes and throws me out of the airport. And so, there I go again. It's night and I move3 through the back of the airport, the last air-planes are taking-off, passing over my head, destination unknown. I cross the suburbs of the city, going through some dirty roads between shacks and hovels, and then, I even end up sleeping at some cottage, somewhere at the end of the suburbs. In the morning, a man with a small tractor pops up, asking me what am I doing here and my answer is confusing, so he ends up inviting me for breakfast, at his house, “close by”, he says. So, there I go, aboard the trailer of his small tractor, full of pumpkins, and among farmlands we follow, farmlands with sheds and old pavilions from factories in ruin. And after a while, we are already arriving in front of a big yellow building with scaffolding attached, like a house in permanent construction. So, as we pull over, we dump the load of pumpkins and enter directly into the kitchen of the house, where there are some men and women seated at a big raw table, talking aloud, and some children climbing the walls around, coming out and coming into the house, through the windows. And on a wall at my front, between the windows, I see a picture of saint Sara-la-Kâli, the patron saint of the gypsies, a very worn sort of portrait, even with some spots on it, spots that make it almost unrecognizable, but I recognize it. So, straight away, my host tell me to sit and introduces me to his comrades saying “I just found this one outside, he was sleeping at a hut on the agrofields down there, and says that is traveling…” and now, some of them are looking at me, with curiosity, with aloofness, a mixed expression of innocence and malice in their eyes, and then, a fat woman with a colorful dress is already bringing me coffee and porridge, “eat that” she says like giving an order, with a big smile in her face, a odd kind of smile. “Traveling!?” exclaims the older man at the table, the one with a long scar on the face, a scar that goes from the corner of the eye until the corner of the mouth, “the airport is not far… Did you lose your flight? We can get you a brand new passport, if you need…” he says while emitting a soft but hoarse kind of laugh. “Ah yes, the airport, I was there yesterday, but the security sent me away…”; “aum! But why? Didn't they like the way you dress?” asks the same lady that just gave me coffee, with some irony in her expression. “No, I was there asking for money… and then, they said that was not permitted…” and so, while I say these things, some of them are actually emitting suppressed laughs. “But where do you wanna go, afterall?” asks me one of the young guys at the table, actually not that young, more like middle aged, something like that, well, I can't guess his age because he’s got a very slim kind of face but his skin is very rough. So ““North Pole, South Pole…” I say. “And where is that?” some of them ask me. “It is the extreme north and the extreme south of the world. “Stop bullshitting us” one other tells, snot dripping from his nose. “Tell us where have you really been”, he insists. “Well, I have been to different kinds of deserts, searching for different kinds of oasis… ”; “Oh yeah, I have also been to deserts, the Golden Triangle, the Golden Crescent and the Shan State, do you know that?” he asks, and I say no. Then he explains, “The Shan State is the leading global production area for YahBah methamphetamines, 4 also known as 'horse drug', "bikers' coffee" or "kamikaze", and now is this telling you something?”; “no idea” I answer. “Well, they there are4 other alternative names for that, like “ya khayan “ or “palarkar”, “pil kuda”, “shabú”, “ma-goo”, “baba”, “guti”, “laal”, “khawon”, “jinish”, “bhul bhuliya” etc etc. And then, the kids around start to repeat all these names and change their forms, making onomatopeias with it. Then the older man at the table tells them to shut up, and sends them out of the kitchen, and off they go, all jumping through the window, but still repeating this names as they do it, “Yahbu-Shabu-Baba”. And so, the one with snot dripping from his nose continues his explanation “the most common of these pills are red, pink, orange, or lime green and carry logos such as a big "R " or a big "WY". You also can put it on an aluminum foil and heat it from below, we call it ‘chasing the dragon’, wanna try it?”, “no” I say. And then he shows me some tattoos on his arms and chest, a few piranhas, some kind of flaccid monsters with multiple eyes being pierced by swords etc, and he tells about the meaning of all this and we get into some kind of arguing about symbology of this drawings and then, because I say something they don’t like, I get expelled from this gypsy place. So, as I walk away and come to the main road, a three-wheeled kind of motorcycle is passing by and without coming to a complete stop, the driver, a chubby middle-aged man with grayish tousled hair, makes a sign for me to jump on. And here I go now, already a-board that thing, standing up, my feet stepping over the brims of the rear axle, hands holding the back of the driver’s seat, Albino, his name, and on one of his shoulders, a parrot, calling me all kinds of dirty names while we ride. “Stand back from him” tells me Albino, “coz he bites”. The driver arms wide open, clinging to the steering wheel like if driving a Harley. And so, this way we follow along a zigzagging provincial road, up and down through a hillside filled with shrubs, groves, fields of cultivation, and here and there the farmers stopping their works to watch us passing by, and me waving at some of them and the parrot repeating  “Fuk-Fuk-Fuk” and Albino making the motor accelerate more and more, this is, the engine emitting a wretched noise... and the exhaust pipe liberating an elongated cloud of black smoke. So, this way, quickly the agrifields are gone, and the farmers too, and then we slow down… rolling on flat ground now. So now we can hear each other, and so, I speak a bit about me, about my directions, and Albino, while adjusting the position of the crutch wedged between the seat and the mudguard, starts to tell his story... "I used to be a resin collector... from pinewood to pinewood I went, picking the sap from the pines... I had no family or house, and all the holy money I would make… I would spend it in the tavern or at whore houses... I never knew my mother or father... I didn't even have documents... My name was also a creation from... from people that liked me, this is, some of them helped me... and I helped them in all kinds of odd jobs as well… Things like, digging wells, killing pigs, dressing dead people, etc... In the winter, I used to sleep in the haystack of their properties, between the barrels of the resin... and during the summer, many times I slept in the crags, under the pine trees... these pines, that have been my best friends through the times... specially the female ones... and there, in the middle of the5 woods, I was not afraid of anything or anyone... because I had a ranch of dogs that would protect me, I still remember their names: Galvão, Pintas, Caçoulo, Xibanga, Cabrita, Magana and a few more... but you know... moving through thickets and groves at night may have its dangers… and there are hidden wells, ravines, slops, mineshafts, and other traps of the same nature... so, it happened that, one night, at a devil hour, when I was coming out from the tavern, filthy drunk… I collapsed… and down the cliff I went… into a  dark hole... result... I broke my legs on several sides, and made a few holes in my head... and so, I couldn't move any more without crutches… and so, later, they, the people I used to work for, they bought me this machine... Well, you see, God punished me, I don't know why... me, that was already miserable... he decided to punish me, instead of torturing the liar, the abuser, the greedy... or maybe it was the devil that came into my body through these girls... I don’t know... but, fuck the girls... fuck the devils... I still do my life... People bought me this machine and I keep moving… This is, I have many friends out there, that is, everybody knows me, and so, I continue to run all the taverns, I take the news from here to there, and when there is no news, I invent them... that's my job now... you know… and what about you? Where do you wanna go? What's your destination?”; “Well, I have no proper destination, I just wanna go, somewhere…” I say. “So, have you not a family to stay with?” he asks, and “I’m not sure about that…” I say. “I guess there were some problems… I was hospitalized, and then… I didn't know about my past… It looks like I don't know who I’m. I don't know where I came from. I don't know where my family lives… and also they didn't come to claim me at the hospital…”. “Hum, I see now…” exclaims Albino, “so, we are brothers, actually we are both some kind of orphans…” And then he turns up the radio volume, and there we go, uphill downhill, listening to some classic music, some “gnossiennes”, some “nocturns”, some “fugues”, all this punctuated by a pleasant southeast wind, dripping against our faces and imagination. Then we stop at the tavern and I try to help Albino to get off, so I just pass him his crouches and he, with expertise, install both crouches under both his armpits, and then there he goes, dragging himself to the tavern’s entrance, and me on his back, moving with hesitant steps. So, already inside, the taverna man, a dude with big sideburns salute both of us, and there are only two or three tables on the bottom, and in one of these tables is already the lumberjack and other guy, drinking wine, and straight away, they invite Albino and me to sit on their side. And there, leaning against the bar, there are another group of men laughing and protesting about something related with politics… and so, at another table at the bottom, a man is holding a small accordion attached to his chest, the so called concertina, and this man has fat red pimples around his aquiline nose and the other two men on the side, one has hair coming out of his hears and a burnt mustache, and the other one with a bony face is wearing a funny beret and his mouth is already open. Wine is already coming to our table, and we begin to hear a dotted kind of sound coming from the small accordion, and so, at this time, the player is already opening the bellows, making the air come in, opening it even more, and then he stops, with that totally6 distended leather lung on the front of his belly, he is now throwing a deep look over us and then over the two friends on his side, as if, in a mood to eat them. And then, the one with the more scavenged face, already licking his lips, begins like this "Here we are now my friends and fiends of the vow... here we are in this estranged disarranged life with no fife... attending this nefarious life as if…", and soon after a short solo by the accordionist, the other guy, this is, the one with hair coming out of the hears, continues like this "Yes yes that's right, that’s wrong, here we are and here go... this is, you just started and you are already crying like a oh oh oh… and so, I say, if you  wanna keep singing like that, you better move on to the loo...”, he trots, and as it goes, I keep drinking glass after glass, and then, at some point, I see Albino throwing logs on the fire, and after another small solo from the concertina player, we know, it’s his time to enter in the duel, and so, he goes on like this “Yes oh Joshua… hua hua, from whose is the fault we should apurate nowha... and who to blame after all for this hullabaloo??... the abominable snowman ohu? the Postman uho, or the boy Luciooohuouo?” And then, without my knowing, also came my time to sing, and I just make some grunt sounds, this is, moaning and groaning words with no meaning, and once more, I get kicked out of the place and there I go, leaving, getting lost. And so, I walked all afternoon without spotting a soul, until that, when I was stopped at some crossroad, thinking, in a groove, surrounded by eucalyptus, a guy came riding a bicycle, and as he came by my side he stopped and pointed to me the seat of his bicycle. And so, I took his suggestion and mounted his bicycle. Then, together we would follow, in silence, going down the hill, and I decided not to ask him questions... but then, it was he, who started asking me what I was thinking about. “Home” I replied, and almost everything was said. After, just to make conversation, I broke my own rules, and decided to ask him where he was coming from. And so, promptly he tells me that he had already done the silk route, the cedar route, the coal route etc. Then this new friend wants to know about my travels, and which adventures I've been into. And so, by now, I tell him I have been in many places, my memory is no more good, but “I still remembered about Heliopolis, the city of the dead, a place I have been wondering about before getting here”. “And where is that?” he asks. “Heliopolis is the biggest slum in the world…”; “And who lives there?”; “Well, the original profession of this city of the dead was guardian of tombs, allied with guardian of treasures... plus orphans of various genres transformed into scorpion persecutors… things like that…” and then he started to tell me about his life in the jail… the sexual assaults,  the forced labor, his addiction...  and about his family that never looked for him, while he was there, inside that inferno… Although, “while I was there, I learned all sorts of tricky techniques about traffic, robberies, looting and whitening... plus, I got  a specialization in the locks matter, whether they were built-in, tubular, magnetic, or telescopic…” And then, when he was comfortable enough with me, he confided that his future project would be to rob a bank. This is, now he knew how to do it in a totally clean way. And when he invited me to assist him in that process, I felt tempted. And then, while we went down, he explained to me how we could do it, everything in detail, and after these explanations, we started to talk about what we could do with the money. And he already had a plan, “I want to buy a boat, make it my house and travel the seven seas” and I, what would I do with all that money after all? I was not sure. 

NOWHERE - looking for a new home

 It's night and here I go, through the city, now going across a middle class neighborhood, I try to speak with some people at the windows, this is, I try to tell them my story, but it’s like they don’t understand my language, as they finish their cigarette, they close the windows and inside they go. So, I get the courage, and decide to enter into some of these buildings, battering on doors, going up and down on lifts, etc. Some of them don't answer, and others (despite the signals of life inside), don't open, this is, they spy me through the keyhole.  But still, sometimes, they want to know who am I and what I want from them. And according to the roughness of their voices, I was Jack, I was John, I was Gabriel the angel, but they didn't care, I was always sent away. Even so, I did not give up so easily, and I continued to go from building to building. Still trying. Then, at some point, one proprietor caught me in the corridor and tried to push me out of his building, screaming, and as this was happening, some of the dwellers were coming out in pajamas, some trying to understand what was going on… others already calling me names… and so, in one of these happenings, there was a certain middle aged woman that in the middle of all this mess, she came by and pulled me inside her apartment while saying BACK OFF to the other ones on the corridor. And once inside, she even offered me tea in her cozy living room and as I tried to explain myself, she says “actually you don't need to hurry up telling your story all in a sudan, relax, you can tell it later... after the tea and the cookies, and… there is no need for big acknowledgements…” So I deep breathed and installed myself on an old fashioned couch while looking around... some pictures of discolored birds on the  walls, and I see that the stuff inside the cupboard is a bit messy and the fan on the ceiling is making a slight continuous hissing. Plus, the door on my back is half-open, and from here I even can see that someone inside is watching a movie. This is, from here I can spot part of the screen of the computer but not the person in the back of  it. So, as it goes, I may say that that movie looks kinda familiar to me, and also the soundtrack, but while I wonder about it, the door closes, and then, I can’t see or hear anything more… And so, my host explains, “That's my daughter, Maho… not a very social one, she just worries about... well.. I'm not sure what she really worries about… since she left school, she shows no interest in anything, doesn't want to go and look for a3 job... look for a life... she just stays there... watching movies... too much like her father...”; “But Ma'am, I advise you, that's how I started too, pay attention to how you treat her… you better not censure her too much, coz one day, like me, maybe she will get out and never come back...  like me that… got tired of my family's criticism and just went away... to never come back...”; “Oh I see, but where have you been, all this time?”; “Well, I have been on the road... walked thousands of kilometers going from city to city and finally managed to find a job in a meat factory… my job was to remove the bones from pieces of meat, I was a dis-boner, removing the bones from pork ribs, with a special double knife I worked on these ribs all day... and sometimes during the night... I did overtime too”; “Ouh poor you..  but when was that??”; “Ages ago, or perhaps not that much... I'm not good with numbers and time anyway...”; “I see, but you are still young...”; “Yes, you are right mam, me what they call an eternal teenager… isn’t it?”; “Hum... they... but who are they?”; “They, the trained ones, the students of the brain... the specialists of the mind, I mean…”; “...hum, and are you OK with that?”; “I'm very ok mam... I don't care about anything they say...”; “So, afterall, you never came back home, since that first time you abandoned your family to go look for... well, to go look for a job?”; “Right, I never came back...”; “But… where have you been more precisely, can I ask you?”; “I have been in many places, many countries, worked in many shitty jobs, different kinds of factories, operating machines, dreaming of myself being sucked by these machines... so, after the meat factory I changed to another country and found work in a timber factory, but it didn't last for long... I also worked in some glass factory... making windows for offices... and I worked in a mattress factory... that was not so bad... and, my last one was a stone factory... there we had to use a mask all the time because of the dust... it was depressing... we were making engravings for the cemetery tombs... and after that I never got a job 4 again...”; “And no relatives can help you?”; “I didn't ask for their help, and I forgot everything about them...”; “And so, since then what have you been doing?”; “Well, walking around... being a hobo here and there... I have been in many countries... crossed many deserts... almost died in the last one...”; “Found your oasis finally?”; “The oasis is inside, not outside...”; “Can't fully understand your words, but that's ok, if you fell happy here now, enjoy your time... it's my pleasure to give you a place to rest before your next... let’s say... your next desert crossing...”; “No more deserts crosses for me mam, please... I had enough from deserts… wanna tell you... today I just got out of that sandstorm machine... wanna tell you, today I feel human again...” And as I say these things she is watching me, with curiosity, and then I stand up, I walk around this living room, and as I approach the window, I open it and put my head out... so, now, down there I see a horse (maybe a donkey), grazing the grass in the back of the buildings... and I don't know why, I begin to yell some onomatopoeias... like “arrrshurrruffuff”, just because... and the woman on my back, is already romping into a strange kind of dry laugh... roaring like a female lion... and for a while I continue to throw this onomatopeias out of the window, till that, the neighbors are also joining me, shouting from another side windows, some of them cursing, some yelling, some pronouncing the name of god in vain... and so, the spectacle continues like this during some time until that the madam begin to fight with her own breath and can’t laugh no more... Then, she comes by and pulls me out from the window... and I don't resist that much. Thus, the window is closed now, but the neighbors on the side windows are still quarreling. And as we turn back, now I can see a girl with long black hair standing by the door-still of her room, watching the whole scene. And so, this girl, her daughter, as she looks at us she shows some disgust on the main facade but also some kind of smile in the corners of her mouth. And then finally there she goes “What's going on here?? And who is this man here? Why is he doing a pathetic scene like this in our house?”; “Don't worry, sweeter... this man is… is the, well... he is the new plumber let’s say... can't you see? He came to clean out the roast from the tubes…” and as she says this me and the ma’am are sharing half smiles, and her the daughter, with some kind of hatred expression in her face, now says “So very fucking funny you two are… and what are you gonna do next hein… invite him to live here hein... that is, will you pay for his food just to listen to his babbling and prattle? And then will we have his beggar friends coming over for super too??... and then, will you let them stay overnight, too?... And then will they fight between them for the best places to sleep, hein??... may it be over the kitchen table, or who knows, on the back of the curtains... or even inside the wardrobe, or in your room... is that what you want, hein? And then I will see, they will get really mad... they will disrespect us and our neighbors and they will throw us out, sell all our stuff and smash the house... is this what you want for your life, hein? Do you know this person by instance?” And as she says those things, her expression is serious but her tune sounds very silly at the same time... and I know, she had stolen some of her interjections from an old black n' white movie from the fifties that I also have seen... but I'm not sure about the name... I knew the very same scenes she had just resumed... and I could tell it even with more details... but her mother probably did not know about this movie, and so, took the comments form her daughter too much in the heart, and her face turned pale, and for sure, there is many kind of feelings fighting inside her head and nervous system by now... And then she advances like this “You stupid girl... don't you scream like that on me... you are just as ungrateful as your father was, I gave you everything, I took food from my month to feed you... to feed both of you... and... what happened? One disappeared when more was needed.... and the other... passes now the time locked in the room... almost not talking to me... not showing any humanity… just addressing me with bad words, insulting me... and so, what do you want now? Who are you to judge the people I receive at MY house? Are you jealous? What is all this nonsense about? And why are you trying to control what is not yours... If you want to be the boss, why don't you go and find a job? Why don't you pay for your food? Why don’t you help me to pay the rent... so then, you can stand up, and choose the right people to live here…” And so, even before the mother finishes her discourse, the daughter's hands are already passing through the cupboard with violence. And one by one she smashes all those crystal figures against the floor. And then, she goes inside her bedroom, and more sounds of stuff being broken we can hear… and while this happen, the mother tries to enter that same room, but she can't, coz the door is blocked, until that, finally, the daughter is getting out from there with a small leather pack on her back, her hands going over tables again... some more decoration stuff being broken... and as she make her way out through the main door, this is her final words: “You fat cow... you will neversee me again... for long I have grown tired of you... I'm gonna live with my father... you bitch!” she says as the main door from the apartment is being slammed. And so, she is gone, like I have predicted. And now, we have here this mother bursting into a pathetic cry, and then there she goes, opening the door again and running to the corridor, and yes, she goes on to pursue of her daughter, and when she reaches the top of the stairs, this mother tries to slap her daughter but the girl manages to push the mother against the wall, gets in the lift and down she goes. And the mother is left over there, stretched on the carpet, weeping and gurgling like it’s the end of the world... and so, now the neighbors are coming out of their flats, again, they watch this woman there, and they are also watching me on the door... and here I’m, hesitating between advancing to help the ma’am or close the door... But, fast as it goes, I have no time to choose, because, two men, the same ones that hours ago have tried to expel me from this same corridor, I guess, they take hold of me, grasping my arms, one each side… and I’m being pushed down the stairs, this is, they are dragging me... calling me all kind of dirty names... and with a kick, into the streets I’m being thrown... but not so bad,  nothing broke, I manage to stand up, and I still can walk. And so, afterwards, not so far from that place, at some other street, I find another open door, and again, I enter the building, I make my way to the last floor, and as I reach it, I go through the corridor and instantly I lay down on a mat by a door, the shoes under my head. And then, inside some kind of dream, again, I listen to the squeak of the brakes of a train coming to a halt, and then out of this train is coming a man accompanied by a blue monkey under an umbrella, and there they go walking through the platform, and then I see a letter passing under the door where I’m staying, and so, straight away I pick it up and try to read it but, I can't really understand what is written on it, coz, It's a terrible calligraphy, it looks like mine actually, and in the middle of this letter there is also some little monster faces and some kind of pink elephant and a couple of butterflies with big antennas... and so, at some point I come out of my barrack looking for the possible postman, but, I can’t see no one... this is, even the train station is no more there now...  all this is should be a dream inside a dream but when I touch the roses in the garden under the window, I hurt my fingers in the thorns... and it turns out that there are a lot of people behind the bushes, on the other side of this same garden, and all of them are half asleep, and only half of their bodies are actually visible... and so, I ask them what are they doing there by the wall of my barrack but, I get no answer… this is, they look so tired of waiting, that they can't talk at all... I think to myself. And while I turn up, now looking at these stone stars, I see, by chance, over the roof of my barrack, the same blue monkey, still holding that umbrella, then he turns to me and says with a certain kind of businessman tune that he has a mission for me,  and when I want to know which is the mission he says  that “in the letter you have in your hands is the instruction for that mission… but, do not care about what is written... this is, you better burn the paper and read the message in the smoke” he says, with his nasal intonation, and there I stay, thinking about it.