A place where I can never return. Hector D'Alessandro
was after four years when I lost first and only time in my life consciousness. I fainted in a dire and only returned aver the outside world and to hear from me, from the tip of my nose from my hand scratching his face, the sound of my breathing and a new way to breathe soft anti-taotlmente previous day's last breath. For some reason, my brother, ten years older than me and charge me for one night while my parents moved away two streets to the house of my cousins, was given to celebrate a kind of orgy of fear. Lights turned off, put a blanket over his head and lit candles at the same time strange guttural sounds that issued that sought the grave, and I sank into ami terror of such dimensions that took my breath, closed my eyes in the middle of my own screams with which tried in vain to chase my own panic and then I fainted. This unusual action
rushed to my brother back to reality and act with speed hico.
And with such a degree of efficiency, as had half an hour later I was in the hospital tubing in an "oxygen tent" and, as a gift, with a diagnosis of "asthma of nervous origin" as of " nervous "in this case, though for me to imagine a bare wire which sparks flew, was related to the word" shock. "
From that time my mother passed to have a seemingly solid argument to divide left and right slaps. My brother for having "almost killed" and I, alternatively, as it would allow its own cmprender bare wire, I was punished for "making do" ("stop breathing" in a way that seemed voluntary) either exonerated me most of the housework when I could work, and repetitive in the school gym.
During those years I visited (this is a ridiculous expression suggest that our language in this case, when in fact the action is reversed, it was me who was visiting him) different physicians in the mutual and both sides gave a good prognosis for the future; at some point I would go this disease. This is not comforting to my mother and then sought private practitioners, preferably expensive, you might have another solution. I attended one that made me take capsules in water disuletas Epsom salts; clear that the doctor that his name was Gil Ligner said was a drug that exclusivoy a formula prepared at home. In order to give the necessary mystique put the capsules in powder and all this together in a blue glass bottle ("to preserve the formula of radiation") and suggested noexponerla the sun. This was important because as the passage of time showed the futility of that system that conformed Dr. lenses on his nose Hebrew, looked to the side, looking the other, looked at my parents, I was looking at me, I stared at the floor showing off what was coming: "Do not have made this bottle the sun, right?" My father was
answer me on the open character of Dr. Ligner blatant scam, but my mother loved the "eminent medical" and he loved to tell your friends and relatives that someone from our famialia "had been visited by an eminent medical ". My mother was a lady who liked to make it appear and although we had to be all sick, had to fulfill its mandate. Similarly, and on another front, at some point in her life she got into her head that I should go to Mass every Sunday but the religious fervor did not spring up in my body and her asthma did not insist too much on this. She after all, never went to Mass, received that if the Catholic blessing at home, with the monthly visit of the virgin, something that paid. He was on good terms with the virgin and made him alms in the bank that had under the virgin. Tips that I shirk the only virgin mother went out to run errands in the morning. I was in different places at home hiding money, I was a kid driving a unusual amount for their age and not everything could be justified. The virgin of course could not, sometimes even after evading, I returned to enter into that sort of wooden urn because if I came home to find I'd actually see in big trouble because they can not justify it.
In my house there were many things that could not be justified, for example, in the morning many times we were together, my mom and I to visit different witches, healers, fortune-tellers crossed themselves and the city. These visits relvelarlas we could not my dad or anyone in the neighborhood and certainly not me at school. Imagine, my dad had given us over the head with all the scientific literature and the positivism of his hand, in the neighborhood we would have considered very vulgar people and in my Catholic school was to lie to the devil. The conclusion for me was obvious, had good reason to extrosionar my mother. She usually pays me on gifts and trips during which went to bars to eat delicacies fully conducive to producing an asthma attack and yet did not produce any attack. Or asthma or nerves or anything.
Anyway, I enjoyed visiting the ladies who attended at home, and sometimes had a husband or a relative or a child who entertain as well as witness the run of cards. Is that my mother made me look closely at those witches to corroborate with a gentle kick under the table or with some slight handshake if I "discovered" you were lying. I became an expert at finding the ladies, a slight gulp before telling my mother what I wanted to hear, a very large clear open eyes and tilt your head on my mother and trying to convince of the truth of his words when they were yacketayakking in a very blatant. All that I learned and I learned the wisdom of my mother not to tell the truth if the lie was too thick and could lead to an outburst of anger on her part. I was wary of any door closed behind the tarotista and imagined my mother trtanadola of lying and refusing to pay, the woman calling her man and acontinuación a newspaper headline stating that a child Catholic middle class in decline and his crazy mother appeared in the stream miguelete beheaded, thrown there by a known pair of con artists who made use of the cards to win the confidence of the unwary. (I knew the journalistic language to perfection, had few things to read in the consultations of witches as he waited in the living room.) I hope in the living rooms of witches and ladies hairdressing salons won for me a knowledge of female soul that fires are that I want, I know when a curuja of those coming out in magazines is dressed in very bad taste from very pequñito, I learned that before the complicated normaitvas the off side in football; I learned to play sport after seeing my classmates for tens of days and then read two books Nile J. Suburu where I could understand everything and then daring to participate; game left after checking that I played for fun and fellow students to get mad.
One of those total destitution later that my mother left me outside the office of the witch Matilda heard the most wonderful story I heard in those years, and of course that influenced me most. Matilda was a fat lady in the street attending Forced Silvestre Rivera and White on the sidewalk of the odd numbers. This woman was very very fat, but this was normal practice in witches who were attending their customers in the dining room or sitting for hours over many years, some even attending from the bed. I will never forget Molly, a Brazilian lady deforming rheumatism scratched back with a coat of plastic on the end of a very long pencil. This worked from the bed and had a nephew, Robert, who looked like a gigolo and brought you some tea or something to drink while you were sitting there in a very modern armchair in front of his bed, from which clairvoyance was being gutted and then I missed you as it was a sign of the cross, a kind of papal blessing salutation very active in her case and which was supposed to send you good health and wellness wave. At that time I thought, "Let the dead bury their dead" and I suddenly became very Christian. In the waiting room I spent hours in some cases only. One was if my mom wanted to talk to the lady something I had not heard, one was if she was going to talk about was me. Generally, my bad behavior in school and bad grades my work was a lot of spiritual cohorts and some money to the purses of the ladies. The sauce
also expected to read to me all revsitas that described the lives of people stupid enough "People" and "Seven Days", by command of my mother should listen carefully to hear any new prescription against the evil eye (a evil as my mother in my family were suffering as a result of the action of someone malgino member of the family and we never find out if my mother all his life tried to hand me the hours of that investigation; bad according to her that we had " stuck "), should also listen carefully to someone talking to another professional who had visited the area successfully to visit him.
So one day, eleven years old I heard a lady who smiled showing his daughter, who was there present and said that asthma was cured by going to a beach where he bought a newly released fish and making the child what thrown over his left shoulder with his right hand back to the sea and then had to comply with the condition of never returning to that beach. It was relatively easy and my brain seemed to widen for a moment in my skull, mispulmones inside my chest and my feet wanted to get out there running up that beach.
decided not to tell my mother I do not know what I was told that if he was going to sabotage as much of your Adrenaline activities witches and doctors and most of us entrgado time worrying about something, was absorbed by my asthma. It was nothing short of a crime family heal.
So I did it alone and in secret, a summer afternoon when she was grabbed nap clothes to bathe in the sea, old clothes that planned to leave right there, never to return wetting and noticed he had gone to the beach. I took money from one of my many strengths AJAS disimuldas distributed throughout the house and the four ran away. I took a bus that took me to a beach an hour away from home. Sometimes people had been killed there, according to the press but hey all that I do not intimidated.
I went to that place and went to get next to a man who was sitting on a paint boot invested fishing and asked him to sell the first fish to take out. I needed it for reasons of health. I looked, they split the piece of Tabajara that dirtied the lips and said "ah, if it is for health "and moving his hand into a bucket showed me that there was some fish, one was alive. Although it was a little big I bought it. He then walked away as I could from this man, I felt shame and an unusual sense of ridicule me.
looked to the sea, I looked at that fish looking at me with that look sentidose sion to the sand I fell twice, I started walking back toward the beach otherwise they would not throw in sea \u200b\u200bbut on the sand. I closed my eyes and felt for a moment the heat through my eyelashes blue light and the salt air of the afternoon, took air like never before done, say out loud that something extemporaneous I found the most suitable for that strange ritual. and depressing the bug that I threw both hands over my left shoulder. I heard or thought I heard it hit the water, thought that was all smug and happy shore.
And I began to walk away with his eyes closed, just let me enter a faint light to guide me to the dunes and then into the street and felt the anxiety of the child was playful, the force on one side of the curiosity to open the eyes and the mysterious office which obliged me not to look back and not return to that beach for life in exchange for efficiency in the ritual. When I started to feel the sand dunes beneath me opened my eyes to avoid tripping and I realized that I was coming to the street and raised both arms as if held to have got a goal and ran and ran and I ran to the bus stop. I had left clothes in the bath but I thought the total internal security that I had cured was higher than any other desire. nothing mattered, not punish me when I get home or anything.
This week the radiologist to see my lungs to the x-ray machine said: "This child has the lungs of an Olympic athlete, it's time to put to practice swimming!" And that bodes well we went to see the doctor, who ordered me from that time was healthy. Leaving that afternoon my mother mutual copra un frankfurter y me permitió ponerle toda la mostaza que yo deseaba. Me miraba y en su cara había mucha felicidad; solo era una imaginación mía el hecho de que le viera un atisbo de sospecha, como cuando me miraba intentando descubrir qué nueva travesura había cometido. Me miraba como cuando sospechaba que yo guardaba un secreto, momento en que yo revoleba los ojos a un lado y otro y no la miraba a los ojos volviendome de alguna manera inconsciente al punto de que ni siquiera escuchaba sus preguntas. Ahora en cambio estaba plenamente consciente, si de este modo puede definirse el estar lleno de vitalidad y de energía y de contento; y si un punto habia de inconsciencia en mi cabecita era justamente eso: como una mota de polvo que se alejaba con the breeze in the middle of the evening light and in my brain representing the figure and image of the place that I can never return.
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