Saints Outdoor Trashcan

Rachel.

Every night, from one in which they slept together for the first time, Raquel invented a story to Ramon. If for any reason did not feel inspired, I read in exchange for four pages of a book, always four, and ended up reading the first sentence of the next page and then whisper in his ear "But that, my Sultan ... that's another story ".

Arabian nights after that first, Ramon-ron delete it from the face of all Lands. "If you ever catch me and I do not see again, I do not ever forget, Shed, ever. But do not die with me ... you have to live by them. So defeat them. "" I had said Ramón hundreds of times in those cruel years of the dictatorship.

So when he was able to assume their absence and could live again with that hole in the soul, Rachel did two things: It changed its name to "Shed" and swore never to tell a story until you've finished reading the book Ramon left unfinished.

Three times a year, dusted off his copy of Hopscotch and went out to buy a rose. Each February 9, Ramón birthday, sat on the bank of the river Ajó, read four pages of the book and then starting, threw them to the current next to the flower. After reading the first sentence of the next page and say to the wind: "But this, my beloved Sultan ... that's another story ". On 2 August, the date it disappeared Ramon, repeated the ritual by the sea and buried the four leaves and the flower on the beach of Santa Teresita or Mar del Tuyu. The Day of the Dead he read in the forests of Costa del Este, pages hung from a tree branch and perched on its base rose. Then came home with a lump in the chest and gravel in the desires.

took eight years to fulfill his promise. Eight years of a half-life. That evening, at last, cried tears accumulated over a lifetime of loneliness brave, absences defeated and rage, which almost eventually poison the soul. Sitting in the forest, crying tears dead, he left everything to flow out of it spent. Then, exhausted, empty ... felt clean, alive again. Ready for a new life, certain, clear and happy life ... ... One lived for two.

Today still telling stories.

To all those who fought against the barbarians and had no, even a tomb in which removed. To them and them. A cross over from there and over here.