Zero Defects
Textscapes (ambient words)
Part I
Nightime in the airport lobby. No one around to talk to, except maybe for the guy sitting 3 meters away. But no, he doesn't seem to be very interesting, and a dull pointless conversation at this time is something I can live well without. Wondering how long the airplane is. The one outside the window. Nervous cigarette butt lying aimlessly on the ground, with no sound to generate a silent invocation. Winter, rain, winds. Waiting for Gotalonia.
Part II
The voice kept telling me that this was just a test. A test to what? It's hard to understand it. Anyway questions about my present life kept flowing through the room towards me. They said it's just a way to really know of my past lifes. I still think they're swimming in dark waters. Nobody in possession of a sane mind would want to know about the past of someone that claims to have no past lifes. One pertinent question was asked too many times: "why do you like so much watching the sky?". The trouble is, I don't really know the exact reason for that and I can't care less. Despite all that the person in front of me keeps on asking more and more until a blank feeling floods his head. Then another question pops out: "will I be interested in knowing more about myself?". Why not?
Part III
Back in the airport. A small dog wanders around garbage containers outside through the wind. Opening another pack of cigarettes. Ticket number xb71. Red coat moving to the other arm. Everybody's an unsolved mystery. (shut up)
Part IV
This is a clear remembrance of something well hidden outside the city. I'm sure that it will never stop. Natacha. Never saw her, never heard of her until now. And the strangest thing is that I have never heard her voice. Yes, she's blonde, well ... kind of, you know. And the way everything moves around her... It's hard to tell.... I don't know, maybe in the next few days I'll see who she really is. The only thing stamped in her face is sadness. It's not easy telling you why. It's not a happy tale. My mind is drifting away, can't tell which direction. And who cares? The space she moves herself in. Beginning description. No stools like the ones outside. Walls covered with something bright. Very bright sounds too. Wooden platform. Dance steps, the shakes in the legs. The will to live. The power to mask life's downfalls. Delaying the inevitable. Another Martini. Staring into the same picture again and again. Flashbacks of recent bus rides in Gotalonia. (Where else?) . Eyes back again for Natacha. The music's getting too loud for a good glimpse of her. End of description. Looked for her this afternoon. No luck. As the city lights got brighter she seemed to be far, far away. Anyway I just walked and walked, no pre-determined destiny. It could be raining, it was all the same for me. Images of her kept evolving in my head like a sad song unfolding secret thoughts of despair. The next step for crying was a bit of rain, or even better, hard rain. I kept my integrity. I walked and looked for Natacha.
Part V
I'm losing my own ability to stop thinking. Can't seem to help it anymore. Entering sleepless mode. Two to three hours a day, body sweating and aching when I wake up. And the process is just at the beginning. And hey, there's another long night coming at me.
Part VI
With the size of the city and the number of buildings it has I'm starting to think that finding her now or in the next few days will be an absurd task. Three days have gone by now, and still no luck. To add more noise to my condition, this sleepless mode, I entered a while back, it's only purpose is to make my nervous system explode in convulsions. "Get used to it" my mind keeps saying. Remembering the way she keeps her head up straight in expectation. Waiting for something to happen around her. The pony tail and a look to the right just to make sure nobody's there. Those moments are looping inside me. And now I realize, or try to, her sadness. It's not real sadness, it's something more like contemplation or meditation or whatever... She thinks she's alone, I don't. The sun is rising in this part of the planet. I'm lonely and somehow sad. And enjoying it, every little bit. The clouds are now moving towards the ocean. Separate identities. Just like me and her. As another life you knew dies, another flood fills the space around. I wonder if people could die and float forever in space... Not like persons, but entities. Anyway, and that's what everyone says, when an old life ends a new one begins. Maybe not just a life, who knows? This thought came into my mind: is Gotalonia really a place to abandon and/or visit past ghosts? When the morning came I finally fell into a deep sleep. Here's what I dreamt of: reality. Couldn't exactly know where I was, but it was somewhere I had never been in my life. The people there all seemed very very happy. That's something a bit out of my reality. There were some people I had known, and a few who were a complete mystery to me. Among the known ones was a girl that kept telling others how brilliant she is while laughing a lot. Whenever I looked at the walls something different was there; swimming dolphins in black water, rotating television sets with bright commercials on. The laughing girl, every now and then, would look at me and smile gently. She was part of my reality life for so long that the smiles she gave me were all I needed to communicate with her. I guess I sometimes said how wonderful she was, just to stand there and smile at me. It was, I think, the best part in the dream. I longed for her smile many times. Sure, dreams are out of here... Her dress was black and kept staying in the way when I tried to look at the dolphins on the wall. Now I don't know if I'll see her again. The pain was all gone in those smiles. I held a drink in my hand. The music was sort of ambientish, a little sad sometimes. I didn't move around much. Most of the dream was just a long stand in a crowded room full of noisy people. Nobody talked anything worth mentioning to me except for Natacha. She said: "are you alone?". She was also there. That's about everything I recall from her voice. I woke up at 3 in the morning, opened my eyes and realized I was all alone.
Part VII
Strange things happen when you're all alone. Like... Noticing an unheard sound the door of the living room makes when opened slowly. Like watching, and wondering how it got there, a pack of cigarettes of an unusual brand. Like the one I found minutes ago lying silently on the table. The food on the table, right next to the pack, is cold. That's something meaning alone too. Untouched for hours. Dim light. The sense of being a lost-in-time ghost prevailed above everything else in me. Newspapers scattered around. Books and magazines still unread. I felt like flying away on top of a flowing sound. Drifting forever more. Someone said to you at this time that you were "hurt". Not in pain, just hurt. You felt odd. That's not the way I feel now. And because you miss so much long talks, you continued. You both talked mostly about common things like how it felt to be caught by the rain in September, things like that. And it was a long talk. Too long for this stage of life. "So what" you said. And then the conversation ended. You stared at each other for minutes before saying anything else. The silence broke up with a noise of a passing car. No more words were exchanged except for two brief good-byes. You were alone again. The refrigerator's hums and clicks kept the drone in the air exciting the spirit to rise once again. I'm alone again and the refrigerator's clicks and hums annoy me to hell. Seriously thinking about hearing some music in order to relax the mind and get this "hurt" out of the way. The Metal Music Machine by Lou Reed would be a great choice! So I press play. Dark room, remembrances of lost days. All my inner space is filled with memories of people I never met before. Thinking: can't remember her with red lipstick, only pitch black, from a night yet to be proven real; persons who were never quite alive for you. Some people are dead before they even suspect it. Natacha never was one of these people. Gladly. But, who knows? Maybe she's already dead. Do you really know anyone who really lives? Negative flowing thoughts never seem to help anyone, except for a hidden pleasure deep inside. The food on the table looks like it's a week old. Losing your appetite. Drinking water and watching TV. She turns on the tv set and watches a chinese commercial about god knows about. You seem like it's been two or three years since your last party. You just look lost. completely lost. The people you find on the street salute you since the last time you were together at the fucking Late Night Open store. You were anywhere those days. It didn't care if it was sunday, or monday or saturday. You just simply didn't give a shit. You remember someone saying to you "my name is Friday, I live on fridays". Odd. It even reminds you of a Nine Inch Nails track. Because of the coldness of the food, you empty a glass and fill another. At least it keeps you warm. And alive, 'cos that's the most important thing of them all. You don't want to feel dead. And my answer to that would be: don't be sad. It's nothing you can't handle. Encouraging words are all I say. I turn around and feel sorry. Sorry for everything I caused and will continue to cause. I think that no effect will stop causing anything, even if it's only on the sub-conscious level. Everything's eternal to a certain extent. And that's not the worst part. The worst part is what we already know: we have to carry all the shit 'till we die. Did I ever say that everything's interconnected? Think about it; I will explain it later on. Did I ever tell you how long it's been since I last saw Natacha? You don't even dream it. Last night (or was it day?) I dreamt of a car crash and how horribly mutilated I got, still I kept my life source. I wonder what the hell Natacha dreams about... Guess I'll never know... Maybe she dreams of the swimming dolphins. Or maybe she dreams of somebody else. I wonder if she really remembers her dreams. I'm alone again. Don't even know where I am. The coldness (even if it was masked) of her eyes. But... It's cold outside, but I will never know the taste of her lips. She seems like a ghost to me. But, who doesn't ? I feel the ground slipping under my shoes, yeah, I'm not well. I must be dreaming. In a different occasion I would say nothing's eternal but, now... Well anyway I'm too tired for this. And I thought I could take it forever. Picture this: she's in front of me, seated on a stool and laughing like crazy. She even drinks like crazy. Don't remember her clothes though. The music around us is shifting to higher speeds. I'm starting to feel very very weird inside. Kind of sick, you know? And not just the inside. I began to distort reality. I felt and acted strangely. But none of that prevented me from walking my eyes around, while the martini got colder and colder in my hand. Remembering writing a poem called "Down on the beach with Natacha" while sitting there on the stool. Too embarrassing and strange to be read out loud now. Maybe sometime in the future. Her face was always in a constant change. Not too sure towards what, though. The eyes shone happiness, as opposed to the past where they looked sad. It's natural. Why shouldn't it be so? She drank some Sunrise Boom Booms with a special meaning. The light is shifting from happiness to mystery. The loudness of the music speeds up towards deception. Or was it shyness? Can't be right all the time... Sometimes I wonder what the hell Natacha dreams about. The clothes she's wearing fill up with cigarette smoke. It's only natural. And I'm getting the feeling that no one really knows who I am. I'm so quiet that I can almost feel the air that comes out of her mouth. Three glasses in front of her. She's looking at her hands and smiling to the other girl. Says something before ordering yet another drink. I find myself wishing she was a holographic representation of some sort directly from Gotalonia. A whole summer seems like shit but it's a long time. And I just had a sunless summer. Lots of clouds and little sun. It's sad on all standards. That was the thought that crossed my mind as I had a final look at Natacha, and then left the place. It's kind of funny how this winter has sunny days almost every week. Walked home that night with a big buzz in my head and a heavy weight on my back. Zero sleep on that night. Eyes aching with the first sun rays. Loud ambient sounds from a tape I didn't know I had. Smoked a lot of cigarettes. That, at least, kept me wide awake.
Part VIII
Home again in Gotalonia. My mind keeps itself busy with little futile things like going to the super market and watching people go by in the main avenue while sitting outside the cafe. I'm trying too hard not to think of her. And strangely enough, I almost succeed in doing that. But it only takes one look at a trendy fashion magazine cover to instantly see splashes of her face inside whatever I'm thinking at the moment. Hopeless. Nevertheless, it's not as obsessive as it seems. But was Natacha really there on the magazine cover? Gotalonia in this time of the year is quite a nice city to be living at. It ain't crawling with too many tourists and the shape of the streets/buildings seem to change from day to day. The apartment I sleep and eat in is on the 11th floor right in the center of town. Nobody ever disturbs me here. It's no wonder 'cos I don't know many people here and I try to keep those that I know away from my "castle". So when I'm home most of the times I do feel comfortably numb. Numb but alive. It's rather different from being bored. Anyway I always have the cityscape to clear my mind on. And those bright lights! Sometimes I wanted to be one of those lights shining brightly in the night. I even had a dream once, while in Gotalonia, in which I was a big neon sign that read "Natacha, I'm here". I remember how I woke up that morning feeling anger and desperation. Circling the neon sign like a looped piece of a motion picture. That's what it was like. Couldn't forget it. Whenever I'm here, the regular night-out is spent at this little old cafe called "Cafe de L'opera" drinking a big cup of coffee and mainly watching other people talking endlessly about no-one-really-cares-about type of conversations. It's never a dull time there. And sometimes someone that I know walks in and joins me at the table. Usually when that happens I start drinking martinis like crazy and having a hell of a good time talking about obscure/insane stuff just to scare them off. But that's just if I want to be alone. Which, by the way, is the most common feeling I have nowadays. Just like the song said (by whom, I wonder) : "some days are better than others". La joie de vivre isn't like it used to be. You seem to have lost something forever. You are alone most of the time now. You seem distant... Correction: you are distant, even if you are with someone you like. It's disastrous and painful for you. You walk around the streets of Gotalonia like it's the end of the world. Your eyes have a terrified look, and people you don't know or want to, for that matter, avoid you on the subway and on the street. The place where people can find you more serene is at work. In there you don't show your inner self struggling for god knows what. And machines don't notice that either. They seem well when you're around. You're still thinking they have feelings. And thoughts, and almost everything we know humans have. That's your own way of looking at dead stuff. You have reached a state of life where the intimacy towards machines is greater than the one towards people. You know more machines than humans and that makes you think sometimes. Dressing your coat for a walk at the bars. Subtle music comes in and out of the speakers. Dead Can Dance swimming up a lost time and place. You think of things you have lost in the past. You go out to the bars and find someone you lost in the past sometime ago. Two persons to be correct, even if one of them was not a welcomed soul. The two of them lost inside the walls of an unpleasant bar. After a while you go back home and listen to very old music instead of looking at the stars and remind yourself of the past times everyone longs for and no one gets... The stars above Gotalonia. That makes you think of dreams you should have had. Dreams of somewhere else. Dreams of someone trying to find what who-knows-who planted before you. Right before your eyes, and neither you or anyone else could see it. Until now. People around you are beginning to realize how those dreams came to an end. And realizing how lost you are. But they say nothing. To you or anyone else. Silence prevails even if it is unwanted. People are always trying to know what's on your mind. And, don't get me wrong, but they're intitled to that. Trouble is no one really gets inside. And deep down their brains, they don't give a fuck. Upon returning home you have an unexplainable urge to look for objects lying around the house that don't belong to you. Left overs from past visitors to your home. You find too many. You look at them with a blank expression trying to remember where did all this came from and where will they end up. You realize, almost in a flash of light, that all that stuff lying around in the chaos of your Gotalonia apartment represents fractions of time. Most of those fractions don't have links from the past or to the future. One object stands out from the others. It's a very normal disposable cigarette lighter. You still remember the person that left it there. You haven't seen that person for months now. She drifted away to a city you never heard of to do something you can't quite recall now. But she left it there. Otherwise you might forget her, or who she was. It's 6:30 in the morning. You don't feel sleepy and the lighter hides on the palm of your hand. You look at the window. Opening it. Stepping outside into the verandah. Looking straight at the horizon line just beyond the buildings. Lighting up unconsciously a cigarette with your friend's lighter. Seagulls drifting calmly above the sea. The headphones blast a mixture of looped voices and snare drums. A few scattered clouds here and there. All this is making you feel alone and happy. You decide to go out for an early breakfast.
Part IX
Natacha is at home thinking of things she needs to buy. She tries to think only of indispensable stuff. She's tired of buying magazines she never reads, newspapers she never scans. CDs she never listens to more than once or twice. And clothes. But clothes are different, if she's not comfortable with them on the streets, she'll wear them privately at home. She's the kind of girl who arrives home from work or someplace else and undresses completely just to wear something she's being unable to wear for weeks. And she looks a lot at the mirror. She likes the reflection and everything else. Her eyes reflect the will to change. One finger passing through her own eyebrows. She makes herself show up on the mirror with another facial expression she never saw. She likes self surprises when no one is around. And, come to think of it, no one's been around for long. Except for her closest friend, a girl she met a long time ago when self confidence was all she had for sure. Now even that is somehow dubious. But she almost never thinks too much about it. The questions for which she hasn't, yet, got the answers for, she keeps them inside the conversations she has with people who don't know shit about her. She likes that a lot. She used to fantasize an impossible ritual as we know, or imagine, it. She would seat in front of her TV set, closed her eyes, and tried to upload directly into the screen all her life and thoughts. For so many times she felt better after doing that and stared blankly at the grainy muted screen. She would stay there for a long time until she felt like doing something else just to get her blood to run faster through her veins. And to feel normal. Light burst out of her hands without her knowledge. I think I really need to go out shopping, otherwise I'll die of boredom. This time I'll stick myself to the super--market and just hang around the shelves for some shampoo or something like that. I really need to see people. And then, ignore them. I'm feeling not as sad as I was yesterday. This is a good mood for shopping. "Move your ass girl, there's a beautiful rainy day outside" she thought to herself. She dressed up for the mission that was ahead of her and looked once again in the bathroom for whatever she needed there. She thought better to forget local inspection of her beauty products and have a surprise when she got to the super-market instead. Actually it was one of her favorite games. She opened her apartment door and fled. All of this at 24 frames per second. As she fled away from home she thought at what time life began. She was 21 now. Did she really had to wait much longer? She was thirsty. She realized that on the way to the super-market. While a little girl looked at her eyes silently from the other side of the subway train. Unknowingly, for Natacha. The little girl, clutched against her mother, closed her eyes and began to dream. Gray skies and lots of clouds. Buses passing by on the avenue full of advertising posters and paintings. She loved to see them. People up high with smiling faces and sometimes holding cigarettes on their hands. Her mother slowed her down and then she began to scan the magazines' covers. Natacha was in one of them. The little girl realized of whom she had just dreamed.
Part X
I was near the the port in a small cafe. Mostly thinking to myself. And then I started to remember loose moments from various situations I got involved in. The atmosphere in the cafe is a reflection of the people inside. Very noisy. Which is the perfect atmosphere for letting out all your inner ghosts, presuming that they're alive. And please let me point that they seem very vivid these last few days. You haven't been really well, have you? From one moment to the other, life shifted from radios rays of light to something quite unknown as yet. You can't think of any name to call that. Premature state of depression? Even that is too sad for you to realize. You wanted to be a bug inside an Intel chip. And you wanted to die. Well, not dying and going back to mother Earth. A different kind of dead. You just wanted everything else around you. You saw yourself in a wedding. A strange wedding with a lot of people always looking at you. You were afraid to be happy, back then. You remember a woman constantly looking directly into your eyes. Sometimes fast glances, then a long stare in the eye. She almost felt what you were thinking at the moment. Which was something you already forgot now. You saw the bride with a gentle smile that meant "I'm tired of this waiting". You drank a lot and then went up for fresh air. Outside the restaurant a loop took you over. You couldn't stop thinking about someone you didn't even knew. You took more fresh air. Silent trees with birds sleeping over the night. You could see her face, you could hear her lips, you could feel her smile, yet, you just let yourself fall into that loop, over and over. You must have been outside for more than one hour. A dog chained to a pillar stood like the trees; silent and distant. The rest of the wedding is just a big blur but deep inside you know what happened later. If you try hard enough. You picture yourself very sick, lying in bed. I'm not quite sure of what I'm doing here, and why I am in this place full of fishermen. Not because of what I feel, but because of what I am supposed to be doing right now. Not even sure about that. It could be anything, I don't really give a shit. I'll just stick with my thoughts and let everything else fall apart. I can't care less about my friends. It's bad for me, I know. But it's the only feeling I've got now. And that's not as bad as having a chaotic mess of contradictory feelings to understand. I'm letting myself go. Don't know who the hell I'm thinking of, but she smiles a lot. And to say the truth I don't really care who she is or has been. You really feel like dancing tonight. Let yourself go among the loops flowing back and forth into your mind. Forget about the ghosts. Forget where you are. Don't talk to anyone. Don't look at one person more than a minute. Don't drink too much. Correction: drink too much and see what happens. Look at the drinks' price tags for a long time. Say hi to someone you never met before. Look a lot at the ceilings of the bars. Look wonderful and sad. Pay attention to the music. Love and reject everything you feel. Feel free and empty. Feel the glances you don't even know you're getting. Keep them as rain in your subconscious. Don't try to remember everyone's names. People are just plain images to you, sometimes not even in 3D. Touch the edge of the glasses you drink from with passion. Think of magazine covers. Pull the cigarettes out of the boxes with your mouth. Let your hair go with the wind. Feel addicted. Rewrite the sin that is "Down on the beach with Natacha". Get out of the chaos around you. Hear the piano loop and then go to bed. Dream of her and all the places you've never been to. Dream of all the violence you see in real life. Dreaming of real life... I really have to go out and look at Gotalonia. I never felt like this "urgent" since I was 7 or 8 years old and longed for someone of my own family to show up. Family which, fortunately, I don't have anymore. Reality is twisted in the last few days. Everything that has to be someplace, isn't. I always have to look further to find them. I'm thinking of stupid things: why is it that I always find Natacha when I don't want to? Or, to make it simpler, when I don't expect her? Makes me wonder about the family-one that never showed up. This is different... It involves some parts of life still overlooked. Like sitting on the sand by the ocean listening to Billie Holiday at night. And with the moon shinning over the ocean... That's something still overlooked. A situation yet to be reviewed. Fuck this, I don't really care much about "lovely atmospheres" as a friend of mine keeps saying. I care much more about tragedy. I picture myself, sometimes, wrapped in agony 'cos the water I see now is not the ocean. Or, to make it worst, I picture myself alone in some old house waiting for a friend with a gun, trying desperately to close any open doors or windows as fast as I can. I guess nothing really happens next, so it's always a good tragedy. Maybe not for some, but for me it is. Makes me wonder about the "Down on the beach with Natacha" kind of tragedy. Her drowning after a long afternoon reading and swimming. A fatal end. You think that you'll never know what hit you when you wrote that. Simply out of nowhere. And fast. It's like dying before you were even born. No joy, no laughter, no nothing. It seems that you can't stop thinking about the blood she left on the sand when she came ashore the next morning. It all gets mixed up in your mind until you sit down yourself and close the eyes and step into calm land. Now, deep in your thoughts, you see the beach and the ocean without Natacha, dead or living. You've been afraid for far too long. You need to relax. The table on the other side of the room is filled with magazines and newspapers, most of them, still unread. The smell of burnt candle gets inside you from time to time. Time is evolving towards perfection of feelings and sensations. In a moment or two you will feel nothing, you will think of zero and the beauty of having nothing to do. You'll start to feel numb and sleepy. It kicks off with gentle, slow sounds. Voices through the radio, from films; girls crying, a woman reading an unlistable text, a piano falling down, cars on the highways, and then... A slow atmospheric line circles round with increasing attitude. You listen to that endlessly tonight. A voice sometimes cries out "what do you want?". It sticks like smoke to the walls of your mind. It makes you think of stupid things like airplanes flying high in the sunset. Stuff like that. It ain't sad but it is stupid. You even know that. You look out to see the shapes of the buildings. The clouds. The sea. The time you left her voice in your ears. With the wind roaring through the dunes. "what do you want?". Just watching the sea, just watching the sea. That's what I would say if my mother walked along the road over there. I'm just watching the sea... And it feels blank. It doesn't have it's own sound, it doesn't have it's own image. It used to be someone in the past. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Most of the times it was good, someone good, I mean. Can't even remember right who these images were. I just keep them lost in my soul. They're better this way. Sometimes I wonder if the world would turn all green... It's a happy perspective, not a valid one. Not in the near future. And the sea's not even green.
Part XI (to the shores)
So this is how it goes. I'm here, right? And this wave of... I'm not even sure of what it really was. A bar code was printed in the front. It was a really nice door, you know? And, well... It lead nowhere. There was nothing there behind it. So I wondered how the hell did I got there. How did I disappear so fast from where I was before? I think I'm way beyond the "fucked up" state of mind. It's getting worst every day. I must go out again and look for Natacha. That should be my first goal in life right now, but... Do I have a life? Some people says I don't, but I know I do. Someone told me last week that she goes regularly to a bar called "LĠaura automatica". That's where I should be right now looking for her. Not inside my head. I won't find her alive in my head. All the images of her I can picture shows a dead Natacha. And, believe me, it's not a nice feeling. Maybe I should go now to that bar. And if I saw her there what the hell was I supposed to do? This goes to show that everything I know is wrong. And kind of funny how the last assumption is quite true. I guess I'm the only one who doesn't realize that. I remember sending an email to somebody long time ago with that very sentence "Everything you know is wrong" and the reply was even more astonishing. It was a relaxed reply from someone I still don't know, despite seeing that person almost everyday. I just make a big psychological bypass when I see that person. And the strangest thing of all is that the person who got and replied to the email knows that I send it. Twisted world. That's what this is. L'aura automatica. The name of the bar rings a strange bell deep inside my unconscious. Not sure why, but it makes me feel rather uncomfortable. By the way, I've been thinking about what the fuck I'm looking in Natacha. Assuming that I'll find her, that is. I still don't know what her reaction's gonna be, or what mine's gonna be. And it seems pointless to just stay quietly observing her. That's just something I'm sure I don't want to happen. Hey, I've always liked surprises, good or bad. Life without surprises would be hell for me. This is what I should do: I should make a telephone call to L'aura automatica and speak directly with one of the employees to find out if she really was there. Thinking better that would be a bit too stupid. What if nobody there knows her? It would just be a waste of time. But, on second thoughts, she's a bit famous. She, sometimes, appears on magazine covers... Unless she's doing a better job now at hiding herself from the eyes of the simple mortals like myself. That's a possibility. So you just rushed out of the apartment and took a cab directly to the old port of the city where L'aura automatica was located. You were once again heading toward the shores. Water was the magnet attracting you, not Natacha. The sea was once again waiting for you. The cab driver looked with amazed eyes at you when he counted the tip you left. It's natural in you to spend large amounts of money when taken over by altered states of mind. And your mind is really altered. You're walking faster than usual, your mouth is getting dryer and you just can't wait to drink something at L'aura automatica. But first, before finding the bar, you light up a joint and smoke it with unnatural urge. You don't even remember if the joint was loaded for one person or for more. At the end of it you realized that the distortion of reality it would give you was going to be a strong one. People gathered by the pears looked at the speed you walked towards god knows who or where. You were being watched by almost everybody that you passed by. You, all of a sudden, begin to feel a strange and urgent desire to drink. Anything. You looked once more at the sea and walked in L'aura automatica. Ordered a whisky. Walked along people without seeing them, you couldn't afford to see Natacha so right away. Another cigarette dies. The face of the barmaid is right across yours staring with a smile ten centimeters from where you stand . You say nothing for fifteen seconds. You notice the darkness of the decoration all around. You smell a long forgotten perfume. You take a look around, searching for Natacha. She's not there. The music around you sounds like it's been played through an old radio. And nothing could be sweeter than that. And flashes of light began to form inside your head. First, slowly, then, faster and faster 'till you couldn't even see it. The sound shifts to a strange, yet melodic, drone that stays inside you, even if you don't want it to. Sticky brain music, as someone you know used to call that. People are drunk almost everywhere you look. So, the reds in your eyes, don't look too unusual. You don't give a fuck about the reds. Vague dark silhouettes everywhere you look. And you're still with Natacha on your head, like a ghost of an obsession. And it really makes you feel sad. And that obsession makes you think of the hurt you have inside. All the hurt just waiting to be expelled. And it doesn't make sense anymore thinking about the right time. It could be anytime now. And it shall be, you just don't even suspect that. It was almost by then that a girl started talking to me. She began telling me how much people was inside L'aura automatica. How unbreathable the air was, and so on. I just nodded with my head or I'd say "yes, yes". Not much else, really. At first she seemed to be making small talk, just for the fun of it, with a complete stranger. Then she began to tell me about the way I remind her of some singer from some band I don't even know. I ended the "talk" abruptly by asking her telephone number, and walked away to the other side of the bar, pretending I'd seen someone I knew. I'm starting to feel a strange desire to let go all of the stuff I keep deep down. So, I look around trying to spot a lost soul. They're so numerous around here. It should be a piece of cake for me. I see someone that looks exactly like a dying angel, well... Sort of. Anyway she looks like she's been around for years, around you. On the shores, or so she seems. I wonder what the hell is she doing here, although she seems ok. A little bit too uptight. And a little too blonde... But ok. "Is that smell you have of some french origin?" I said. And she replayed nothing at first, just looking amazed at me. I could not hear what she's saying now. I have the sound inside my head. The sound of some paranoid song by Iggy Pop. So I just smile back at her and say goodbye. Just for the fun of it. "Over this sickness" in the air. The clouds. I need fresh air. I feel so vulnerable. Why the fuck am I chasing a ghost? A telephone rings. You don't wake up. Natacha's at the other end of the line. She's trying to wait a little longer.
Part XII Another bus passes by. The cars ahead look pale and numb. The little girl watches Natacha come by. The people that fill the city dreaming of god knows what. And nobody suspects it. Everyone closed down to themselves. It's a normal sight for the little girl, unlike the vision she's having now of Natacha walking towards her. Natacha's bleeding very hard from the left arm. Her shirt is soaked with blood. She keeps on walking like everything's normal. The little girl closes her eyes and with a decrease in her blood pressure reopens them. Walks towards Natacha. "Are you ok?" she asks Natacha. "Yes dear, why do you ask?". "I see your pain." The little girl looked once more at a very confused and slowly walking away Natacha. She's heading towards home once again after another unlucky visit to the model agency she works with. No jobs for her at this moment. The last job she did was almost two weeks old and it wasn't well paid either. She tried to reach some of her former agencies by phone in the morning. Again, no luck with either of them. She's still wondering why she called that guy. He didn't answer the phone. And now she's thinking if he would cross the ocean just to see her. The way he once wanted to do. Negative answer and negative thought, all cascading like she had just lost faith in life. And when he said to her that he was a very dangerous person, with hidden instincts. She never got to know most of them, luckily or not, she doesn't know. Deep down, she's suspecting that he's been looking for her. I'll never try to call him. Well, at least for now... Anyway he never answers... Maybe I should just go to L'aura automatica and get myself drunk. Yeah, I could call Sonia and ask her out. Even though she doesn't like L'aura automatica that much... Ok, now I'm in the mood for some good old depressive music flying around. It makes me feel the taste of his lips. And I guess I never realized that... Natacha opens the door to the kitchen to get the Cocteau Twins CD she keeps in the refrigerator. Sad moments are to be kept in some place cool. And since she doesn't own a garden... Sound of footsteps. A tick, a tock. A shrrrrrrrrr. A lament for Past Lifes she may had. Natacha looks towards the kitchen window. Her hears, flooded with the brightness of the sun. And her eyes... She began to look out for her treasure. And then...
Part XIII
As You walk randomly, numbly through the streets, something inside begins. You can't really say what it is. You just feel an urge to be faster, in everything you do. You gotta find Natacha at once. You give yourself two days to do that. And deep down you know that's not impossible. You're now walking towards a restaurant. A bad one. You order a salad and a plain steak with french fries. Your head and mind can't allow anything else into your body. So you eat as you think that nobody really knows how you feel now. Not even yourself. Such a big mystery... You decide that you feel like shit, just to put it in a simple sentence. You can't stand blond girls around you and you wish Natacha would dye her hair pitch black. And maybe if she would wear glasses she would look less Natacha to you. Like the girl in front of you, drinking a cup of coffee after the meal's over. Quietly. No sounds. Quite the opposite from you. You wave at the waiter and ask for a double coffee. The radio is playing some shitty music with a woman who doesn't know how to sing bursting her lungs out like she's about to explode. It's quite a good atmosphere to cope with. The black hair girl is still, slowly, drinking her coffee. She doesn't move much. She doesn't even know that you're looking at her for more than three minutes now. And that's a calling. At least that's what everybody says. But you're not at all interested in talking to her. You just want to watch her drink her coffee and nothing else. Just for the pleasure it gives you to walk away from the things your mind is trapped in. You, in fact, feel less stressed now. Things seem to be slowing down a lot. Every movement around you is done with slow motion properties. A quiet place not to think. A place to let your mind wander on and on, without a clear end. You decide to make a mental bookmark on the restaurant. It's the perfect place to come to when everything seems too fast for you. You gain time in here. It's all illusional, but who knows that? The girl pulls out a cigarette and looks at the mute TV set. An old black and white movie is showing on the screen. Maybe from the fifties. You watch the little movements of her eyes as she focuses on and off at the screen. The radio music shifts to a very calm piano piece being presented by a woman's voice. The girl finds a more relaxed position on the chair as she hears this. She doesn't notice your stare. And you don't either. Her dark hair moves to the rhythm of the warm wind coming from the street. She asks the waiter for a drink. After a few moments the old man comes back to her table with another coffee and a glass of red wine. Quite an original request nowadays, you think. As an act of pure enjoyment you wave the waiter and ask for the same. The old man stares at you for a moment with surprised eyes and then walks away to fetch what you asked for. As he is coming back to you with the coffee and the red wine the girl notices that and follows him with the eyes until he stops at your table. She looks at you. First eye contact. She stares back at the TV set with a natural look in her eyes. No emotion detected. She probably isn't gone give another thought about your provocative action. She might have thought that it was a coincidence. You take a small sip in the wine, like usual. Very smooth and sweet. Perhaps she likes to come here to eat not because of the food itself but maybe because of the mixture of flavors she gets after the meal with the coffee/wine parallel. You'll never know that. As the night falls in, Gotalonia people are arriving at the restaurant to have dinner. This is the usual time for almost everybody in the city to start the night. A small group of four young women in their twenties choose a nearby table. The black hair girl doesn't even glance at them. She keeps her eyes focused on the TV screen. She looks confortable and distant. But you suspect that she is trying to uncover something that troubles her deep down her mind. A big cargo ship horn blasts in the air, echoing from the port. The girl looks out the window and stares at the ship leaving the port. She wonders if it would be better to be on the ship heading to god knows where. Or maybe she would be happier here in Gotalonia minus her shitty life. Another long puff in the cigarette. Her fingers caress the black hair. Eyelids blink in slow motion. The sky above the city turns red with little stripes of orange in the clouds. The wind blows warm and dry. The piano music is harder to listen to because of the drone noise those four girls make talking and laughing at each other. You sometimes let their conversation reach your ears, but it's only girl talk. Dresses, hairstyles, favorite brand of beer, and so on. A dead channel for you. Besides, none of those four has the looks the black hair girl has. Period. Two of them are blond, but none of them is Natacha... Their table has a lit candle in the center. You light up your own, also in the center of the table. Another act of provocation? You don't really give a fuck. The black hair girl watches you lightning the candle. She does the same to hers, again at the middle of the table. You watch her as she gives you a split second stare, moving quickly her eyes to the window. Again, you don't give a fuck. The waiter dims the lights of the room and the atmosphere changes. The four girls lower down their voices until you hear nothing but a hum. The black hair girl smashes her cigarette in the ashtray and rises from the table towards the toilet. White sensual legs giving you a sense of desire. You pretend to yourself that she's unattractive. You put your hands in front of your face in a prayer position and slowly close your eyes as she walks out of sight. You begin to sweat. You finish the red wine. And this is something you don't really want for yourself. You are beginning to feel so damn attracted to her that another minute here in this god forgotten restaurant will give you an access of madness or something like that. You leave.
PART XIV I arrived at my apartment to find that nothing there had changed. I always feel the need to look around just to be sure that no one was here while I was away. And most of the times when I know that nobody was here I wish that someone was... Sounds kind of funny, doesn't it? I'm struggling very hard to keep my mind off Natacha. I wish she wasn't blond. I wish I could find her lying confortably in a couch and with dark hair. It doesn't need to be black. I meant her hair. It could be brownish or ... This vision of Natacha in a couch with dark hair is something with a deeper feeling. It's a sign of disgrace. To fall from grace. To be unable to define your future. The will to change your whole life. I'm quite fucked up now. All that drinking of wine. It makes me think about sad things. It's not always like this but, yes, I'm feeling quite depressed. No problem. I can handle it. I've been feeling this way since I was born. Well, not always, but... What I am talking about? Well, I'm just wondering what it would be like to have Ania back again with me here in Gotalonia. The simple thought of it almost makes me cry. I'll close my eyes and fantasize about it very hard with the drunkenness I'm feeling. I guess it would be like heaven to be here with Ania. She's not here, I know, but nevertheless I can picture her very brightly living by my side. Although that's almost impossible to happen a little dream never hurts anyone. And it doesn't seem that it's gonna hurt me more than I am. Ania was and still is very important to me. She was like someone that keeps disappearing when I need her most. And now I don't even know where she is. Maybe right here in Gotalonia... At least I wish so... The truth is that I don't really know anymore what to wish. I'm quite angry at myself so, hum... I still don't give a fuck about the future. It will happen, whatever it is, it will sure happen. Even if it is Death, I'll be very satisfied. I'm just a left over. I'm just waiting hopelessly for nothing at all. Maybe a lot of good things are coming to me through fate... Ahhhh, I don't know. A girl with black hair... Ania... What the fuck's happening to me ? Is this some kind of natural change ? What's this sudden paranoia with black/blonde hair ? The Sun and the Black Hole. This is what happened once with Ania and myself : Way over Midnight. Starry sky. No sound around us. Ania's silent face staring at mine. We were happy. And we always knew that happiness is not eternal. So we were there waiting for the End. Along with the soft summer sea breeze. She told me she loved me. I told her the same thing, with all of my heart. We smiled once more. Still holding hands. Still able to kiss each other. Back then, anyway... For how long ? Good question. We both knew we were going to be far away from each other in just a few hours. Not dead, far away. But, what's the difference ? I may never see her again in my life. What will I be doing tomorrow ? Still fucked up thinking about forbidden things. Still siting on the same couch. Still very far far away. Still trying to make up a whole new Future. A bright one, by the way. With lots of happiness. And with a big shiny end. With a very big Sunset. By the ocean. Still dreaming up throughout the hours. The strangest dreams. The ones I've been having with Ania. This is definitely the night of the haunting Ania. What the fuck is she doing inside my head ? I can't even think of somebody else. And that's becoming a problem. A problem I must, very quickly, solve. Deranged or not, I really must solve it. This deranged state of mind is still at the beginning, I can feel it. What if I woke up dead in the morning ? Would she know ? I wonder if she's alive at all. Is she here in Gotalonia ? My heart tells me yes. And your dreams say it too, although you are never aware of that. Constiently, that is.
Part XV A sudden change of attitude. From Natacha to Ania. Quite a nice thing for you now. It will, maybe, destroy your life. Nevertheless, you pack some clothes, and move away from Gotalonia. You need escape time. You need to be by yourself. Never talking to anyone. Time for isolation. Time to hurt yourself, once more, with the painful thoughts of "what if...". But you decide at the time of departure to take everything in an easy way. You don't really want to push the limits too hard. You went to the supermarket to buy some food so when you get back home you'll have something to eat. It's an old habit, and old habits don't die easy. Two coke bottles and bread and jelly. All stucked in the fridge. Waiting for your return. In a week, or maybe less. The strange thing is that you still don't know where to go to find some peace of mind. Large overpopulated cities are the best for that kind of spirit. Renting a cheap room, drinking coffee for hours in some crowded bar. Watching people go by you, with distant faces. You definitely need that. And you must try out your luck at finding a cure for your paranoias. Even though you don't really want to try that hard. But you still have some hope in some kind of future free of disturbing paranoias. And a future with Love. Lots of it. Strangely enough for you, you haven't been in love for many months now. It's not a natural thing for you. The thing with Natacha is becoming an ever-growing obsession. At least you are aware of that. And wouldn't it be a fantastic thing to find her wherever you are going ? Just lying there waiting for you to come. On second thought, you don't need that to happen. If it happens it happens, if not... You don't care, deep inside. You want to be alone. You don't really want anything else. And that's exactly what's expecting you at you destination. Absolutely nothing and no one. Yep, I'm going to Madrid. It's quite a nice overpopulated, hot as hell this time of the year, city. And people there are always with a strange happy expression on their faces. Well, most of them anyway. And I guess I still remember how to order a coffee in spanish... That's about all I need to know in spanish for now. And I'll just take two or three T-shirts and a coat. I guess people just need hideaways. I think it's the most natural thing in most cases. And I'm no exception. And the weather is so good now. What the hell, I'll go.
Part XVIYou are in Madrid. You feel nothing. You are almost drugged up. You don't think of Natacha or Ania or anybody else for a long time. You are floating... You are not yourself. You don't know a fuck about a fuck. Nobody sees you. You see nobody. You move from place to place just as if you were doing it for the last time in your life. Then, the last thing you ever hoped for happened in front of your eyes. You simply couln't believe it. "It wasn't really happening", you hoped in vain.
Part XVIINatacha stares at him for a while before she can say anything at all. She has a very surprised look on her face. What the hell is he doing in Madrid ? I can't believe who I'm watching seating at the doorsteps of my favourite restaurant. For a few seconds I can not say a single word. That's the last thing I expected happening today. Or maybe not. But certainly no at the doorsteps of that restaurant. I finally call out his name. He looks astonished at me and says nothing. Then he just stares with a blank face. I feel my legs tremble.
