Greetings from Spain to the followers of this blog. My month in Russia ended this week after a traffic accident. I spent a week at a Russian hospital, an experience that gave me much material for this blog. I want to thank Ilia Magin for all his suport during my horizontal torture (Только лежать). I'm still recovering at my place, in Spain; and I am allowed to walk, wich makes me less intelectual but much happier. Posting staff keeps me connected with the world. Or maybe not. But feels good anyway.
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The ceiling
To say that the ceiling is a unknown place is to go too much far. But of course that is not a vulgar site, it is almost a planet that it does not require of telescope. He is daily, but never it is been above by the man. The life arrives there must be of another form, we were asked of children. We get to touch it with the end of the fingers in counted occasions in our life, that reasons at full speed in his shut up presence. The ceiling can get to be subject of postcoital conversation, but nobody remembers what it was said. Some times appear humidities that do the impossible life to us. But when everything is facilities it longs for it to nobody.
A day, by an accident or typhoid fevers, it give with your bones in a hospital stretcher and the ceiling and you are expensive to face by one season. Some times he is of white color, but others it is a mixture of materials and forms, centers of light mixed and spots that try to say something to us. In a wall of Riga somebody has written: " I do not recommend to you that you gey a haircut. The hairdressers are to the service of the Government. The hair is yours. It receives messages of the space it transmits and them to your calavera". There are less direct messages, are those that are throughout.
Before the age changes to you the character you must spend one season with the glance in the ceiling. I do not know if it is a vanguard site, but is not a site for the uncultivated ones. It is for people who are overcome: you had seen tiny beasts belly arrives and now Gregorio Samsa you are. Something definitive will squash to you much later. You have left time to watch the ceiling. They give desire to rebel itself. But when the ceiling sees us of face: What he thinks of us?
If you thank me here, dear Savi, mention also that it was me, who put you in all that misadventure ended with the broken spine.
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