were Galanos, huge, light blue, hazel. Deep eyes, like a well of clear water, and clean, which could fall without realizing it and spend a few minutes, which seems an eternity to get off the bottom. Think I exaggerate, but eyes were almost as blue as sapphires newly polished and washed. Loud, smart, perhaps. Suspicious and shrewd, sure. Some of those eyes, you catch a moment while you are unarmed when you dare to contemplate the face.
hair, long brown, fell on his back in a ponytail or pony tail, clean, almost shiny, which, like a mirror reflecting the light of day last summer in Barcelona. Uploaded on their backs, carrying a heavy backpack, resting on his right shoulder. He wore hiking boots low. Expected in the North Station exit their bus, which coincidentally, was also mine, and that started from Barcelona, \u200b\u200bjust a few minutes later, toward Galicia.
was heading to El Bierzo "he said, was Ponferrada, I believe. It seemed that something was fleeing for his explanation, leaving behind certain things, some consciously, others, perhaps unconsciously, a way out of the pot, not to take prisoners, long period. Looking for the end of the world, now is not, but that once it was. The end of the road was not James, as the discerning reader might have guessed-but Finisterre, which, for many centuries was the end of the world, and where, despite what many salvapatrias meapilas and say, just the way Santiago. Where even today, pilgrims watch spellbound, entranced by what they carry on his back and remembering the good times, people known and the stories told at night, around a campfire in the light of the moon, or the side of a stone fireplace, enjoying a coffee or a soup. Enjoying the view, possibly one of the most beautiful in the world, next to the Cliffs of Moher, Galway, on the Atlantic coast of Ireland, after burning the clothes and footwear, used during the course of the long travel way.
I saw, at first I scan the station, her eyes I said I liked the attention, but soon began to show an intelligent conversation and close, as if we knew of a lifetime, it is curious, as you can pass the life around de una persona y no sentirte a gusto junto a ella, y en otras ocasiones, conocerla, y unos minutos después, sentirte como si te encontraras con un viejo amigo, reencontrado tras muchos años. Lo cierto, es que pensé, en un viejo comentario que ya hace tiempo me comento Horacio Neves-el viejo capitán portugués del carguero San Gabriel-. Ten cuidado rapaz-decia-, pues en asunto de mujeres, a veces oyes canto de sirena y luego te sale loba de mar. Lo cierto, es que se me escapo una media sonrisa al recordarlo, acodado en la barra de la tasca de Nuno, con su eterna copa de ginebra holandesa entre las manos.
La verdad, es que disfrutaba escuchándola, pero al cabo de un tiempo, sus palabras me dejaban un regusto áspero, como ash. As if it will tell its story with a little pain mixed with the need to start a new life. Looking rediscover herself, her eyes reflected this, in some moments of conversation, even more than she talked. In other, engage in perfectly with the story, sometimes with their future plans, sometimes his memories.
the end, it turned out that between paragraphs, talking a little bit of everything, including culture, something that rarely speaks, and, unless you're in a school surrounded by academics lined coat or cutaway. The long hours of road trip, we were going fast. The pilgrim, as the miles progressed as passed the milestones of the road, and we were interned in Aragon, La Rioja and Castile, his face was changing, and his eyes were taking a more cheerful, as if glad to be reaching its destination, or do it for away from its point of departure. Never know, just looked at his eyes, and was the only time they did not show a true expression, therefore, I dared not ask. At the end of the day I thought, was not my concern.
When about six in the morning, I arrived at my destination, the pilgrim was dozing with his windbreak cover, covering her body with him as a blanket, as though we were in August, the nights Zamora do not let up and the temperature was quite low. I said goodbye to her in a low tone, not to wake the rest of the bus. She opened her blue eyes and said goodbye too, as if we were two old friends again, saying goodbye again to spend another few years without seeing, or never to be seen again.
0 comments:
Post a Comment