GATITOS BAJO PIEL DE LEÓN

 

Escandalizan al ciudadano a pie,
a sus más allegados,
a sus colegas,
a mí y a los míos.
Intimidan,
amenazan,
rugen.

Dicen ser reyes de su perímetro.
Fuertes,
machos,
carnívoros.

Exhiben valentía.
No tienen miedo...

No son lobos bajo piel de cordero,
ni tiburones que nadan en aguas tranquilas,
son gatitos
y buscan compasión.

Jordi Boldú. Arguineguín, 23 de septiembre de 2011.

FADING OUT

One in the tub
is naked,
wet,
all alone,
enclosed by water.
Your body is too large to fit in
so something escapes,
but you are in
and everything starts to fade.

Submerged,
loneliness surrounds you.
You feel free,
you feel afraid,
you hear yourself,
you are closer to yourself.
We are not so far anymore.

Then, you completely fade out.

Jordi Boldú. Berlin, September 15, 2011.

3 OUTSIDERS 5 FRIENDS

"Number 5 people are alert, insightful, and curious. They are able to concentrate and focus on developing complex ideas and skills. Independent, innovative, and inventive, they can also become preoccupied with their thoughts and imaginary constructs. They become detached, yet high-strung and intense. They typically have problems with eccentricity, nihilism, and isolation. At their Best: visionary pioneers, often ahead of their time, and able to see the world in an entirely new way."

This is the story of a young tourist in Berlin. A number 5, by the way.  

This 5 guy arrived to Germany a few days ago from the Canaries. The cold has been killing him these days back. "This is not even cold in Berlin," said his friend, a Swiss boy number 5 as well. "I don´t know man. I'm freezing here and I just brought my Spanish slippers and this thin sweater. I'm going to die here!"

Two days later, finally, they went for a walk. After two or three days of isolation from the outside world. That real world, which continues and moves. A street that seems to be a virtual set from the window and that seems made for us as part of us and not we part of it. As if those lives were only part of ours and just when they disappear from our view, they die. This number 5 realized once outside that the weather was much nicer in the real world than inside the (un)real room. It was true that the morning dawned beautiful and pleasant that day but, "how could be possible to be in short sleeves outside and for being inside you need a polar coat?" Then this number 5 had a topic of conversation for a while. So, these two 5 friends went to some free market where they would meet another 5 - A guy from Pune, India. The 5 Swiss guided, trying to orient himself with his Smartphone's GPS, and the 5 Canarian followed him, absorbed in his new application for iPhone - A software for filming images with cartoons filters.

Back home after a long morning, after a few 5 conversations, these three 5 friends went to an outdoors museum in some very-long-and-complicated-German Strasse. Very nice. A Swiss, a Canarian and an Indian. Three 5 friends enjoying, each in their own way, this cultural evening. The Canarian and the Swiss were making photos. "Tourists", one told the other one. The Canarian was shooting with his new application. Now the sky, now some building with a graffiti, now a dog who picks up a ball and returns it to his master, oh! A lady with glasses has crossed the shot - Spontaneous art. But after half an hour in the park-museum, this number 5 thought "Where the hell are we?" and he went to one of his friends. "Chris, this is very beautiful but, what is it?"

Jordi Boldú. Berlin, September 12, 2011.

THE SILENCE

A simple Wednesday - Weekday. A trivial excuse to plan a sort of gathering-dinner at Miss Deenadayalan home, for example. Not so trivial if there is gazpacho for starter and ratatouille for main course, then the evening becomes desirable and exotic from this side of the planet. Everything is delicious. Everything is exquisite - tasteless and vulgar things are exquisite too. Talks amongst friends, among the drinks. The silence is cozy. There is no commitment.

Mr. Bista is on the balcony drinking red wine - in a plastic glass. Staring at the moon and presumably thinking about tomorrow, when a story like today will be repeated and which he is probably already tired of.
Mr. Schäfer and Miss Deenadayalan are flattering, stretched on the couch, cuddling and pampering themshelf. With beer and wine, respectively.
Miss Chauhan takes half an hour on the phone. And for half an hour holding an empty plastic glass.
Mr. Sharsar, Kingfisher in hand, is lying in bed enjoying the air conditioning, and snooping - for nothing more than to do something - the pile of things that are above the bed - magazines, newspapers, DVDs.

Among the clutter of culture above the bed, Ingmar Bergman's film "The Silence",  blinks - which I, Mr. Boldú, gave to Miss Deenadayalan for her birthday. 

 

I run to the living room. "Yamini, did you see The Silence?" I ask Miss Deenadayalan excitedly.
"I was disturbed."

"She cried." Her boyfriend says.

"But did you like it?"
"Yes, of course. But the whole atmosphere is very distressing and bewildering."
"Ignmar Bergman´s." I answer with a snort.

I go back to the room with my glass of wine and with Mr. Sharsar. I want air conditioning too. We do not say anything. A silence.
His task of prying ends with "The Silence". He holds the DVD and watches it from top to bottom, obverse and reverse. "The Silence," he sighs and with an exquisite and witty naivety he puts his bottle of beer on "The Silence".

Jordi Boldú. Barcelona, September 7, 2011.