The Gnome No Time

I remember what happened like it was today, but I remember the moment. In other words, I can not place it in a chronological space. It all started the day I went, as so often, to dance tango. That was the first time that I perceived. Although I recognize it was little known. As if we had met before. Perhaps the theory of reminiscence, of which one has prior knowledge of what is in itself helped me to be convinced that it was he. The monster was sitting at a table next to the track, and I could swear it was he who led me to her. We danced. That did it. I do not know how long, and again I have to stop here. Because if anything characterizes this story is do not have time. Passed or passes or will pass in one place. But when? The tango sounded in the hall. Right foot back, left foot draws an element also back, along both feet, I walk one, two, three, put them together again, twist open and close right foot to start again. The beautiful thing on earth imitates beauty in itself.

Then I sat at my desk and she with the monster. In view of all she was alone, but for me it was accompanied by the strange being. That being archaic dialogue that debated whether it should be considered a god. I went out to walk a lot in common avenue that another time. I walked several blocks to reflect on these issues, people were walking next to me without my fix my attention on them. Every once in a while I ran to the side to avoid colliding with one that was more distracted than I am. I do not know how to cross the street crossings, I paid attention haberles unconsciously, because I got to walk fifteen blocks without warning. I was at the door of a bar and known to me and went inside. I asked for beer. I never drink wine when I'm alone. I think that one man in a bar drinking wine gives a drunk, with beer instead conceals more. So, once concealed my image, I prepared to take the beer and look out the window. When you are carried away by thoughts no time. It's like a dream, the past always comes back as a flashback.

Conscious thought is what makes us slaves of the tyrant who rules our lives. In the dream world time is an unknown dimension. This is a bridge in space, if we imagine life as a straight line, extending backwards and forwards past the future. The past are the memories and the future is an illusion. So while this is something tangible that lasts a moment, the past and future exist only in the mind. So far I followed a logical order. But what if I put aside that logic? Considering the life as a plane, not as a straight line but a plane that extends in all directions, we find that this is still a point, a moment, but for the rest of the time a lot of open possibilities.

The monster is still with her, try to be nice to me, and now I remember, perhaps, and sometimes I try. Yes, it remembered, was in the past, but I now I have more experience. He seems determined and wait. How long? I do not know how long. No time.

I'm sitting in a bar, just to walk fifteen blocks, drink beer, I drink to sip while I reflect, after I finish my beer, paid and I'm eating. I press down the avenue, at any given time, either, turned a corner, and when I realize I'm in a maze. I do not know how I came to this network of streets. I meet people I already know. Actually go with me, but I recognize, I see. As I go I remember events that occurred years ago. Suddenly, something becomes clear to me: this maze reproduce what's on my mind, everything you store in my life is here. Avanzo, nothing stops me is a journey into my being. In a moment I reach my limit, beyond it begins the maze. In that limit is the monster, then lock my feet. I can not go further. I sit and wait.

I sit at my table. I watch the dance floor. It is crowded with people and keep coming. The couples are drawing circles of fire in the living room floor. I drink a sip of beer. As you drink the cup I look over and observe, between light and shadow, that table. Following this action under the glass, and with it also decreases my eyes to stay on track. I get up from the table, climb the ladder, which is extensive and has no landing, I am about to enter the bathroom, pushed the door and I enter into it. I turn to one of the urinals, urine, I hear two people say something about a faso, normal in the bathroom of a bowling alley, even tango, when finished, close the zipper on my pants, I go to sink, I wash my hands, take a disposable towel and I dry my hands, then throw the towel in a basket and drive me to the door. Before leaving make sure my fly is well closed. Then under the stairs on the way to my desk, I sit and drink another drink of beer, white background. The monster remains unchanged with her, Fugo me another way of the labyrinth, in vain, all roads lead me to him.

No way out, I find it impossible to cross that line, the boundary between my industry and hers. In between stands upright, which obelisk inthe Republic Square. It is located on a platform, commands respect with his great presence, blocking my way authoritatively, as if he were master of my fate. Continued in the lounge outside the city sleeps outside all these events. It's 4 AM, the time is not known if it is late and the night or early morning. While many will sleep by creating their own monsters. Thus, men have created supernatural beings of our fears. Mythology was born centuries ago, the pagan gods then religions. But it's all there lay a refuge for our fears. The monster does not exist is a gnome, not entity. I know I did not know before but I now know. Then there is no reason not to move forward. In front of me is she, I have to go through the entire track to get there. I walk through the maze, step by the spot where a moment ago, at least I thought for a moment, stood the monster. There is nothing, alone, owned the place, the way to my heart's content on the site.

I'm in the other sector, step over the side of the track, came to his table, asked her to dance, around the rest of our people form a circle, we occupy the center, turn.

A symbol, what I thought was a monster is a symbol. It represents a feeling. First try to flee, but then attracts us. We can not escape, when one is attuned not be left to itself. Sometimes less, the spell can last a lifetime, others the more, sooner. But while it lasts no desire to escape, time passes unnoticed, there is time.



First published in the anthology Tribute to Oliver Girondo. Editorial From the Four Winds. Buenos Aires, 2003.