Act 1, Scene 6

FEDE

It was something we could only do when no one else was watching. 

We could tell our friends about it afterwards, but even if they believed us (or wanted to believe us), they could never witness it.

I still remember the procedure of entrance.

Picture you have a sewing needle in front of you of which you need to get through its eye. What you naturally have to do is become smaller as you get closer, proportionally. You become sharper and more honed until you’re like a string. After you pass through the pupil of the person you’re approaching you’ll find yourself in a place. It’s a space that has no exterior; through the front door you just get out of the head. It also changes depending on who’s the owner of the head and the passage of time.

The first time it was limited to a huge white living room where I slept on a marble floor. As I visited it more and got to know Meli better it acquired a more definite shape, more “furnished”, so to speak.

After Meli came out of my head for the first time, which left me feeling strangely exposed, she told me:

“I don’t know if that’s the most interesting thing to have ever happened to you, but it certainly is for me. Is it okay if we don’t leave it as a one-off thing?”I told her yes, of course.

            END OF SCENE

Act 1, Scene 4

FEDE

A girl had invited me to hang out.

With her friends, of course, but that still was boggling to my boyish mind.

So boggling, in fact, it made me gently forget a couple of things: that my apartment was broken into and thoroughly burgled, that I hadn’t slept in days and that the Monterrey locals scared me with their pissed-off-sounding accent.

When I remembered these things, it wasn’t anguish that came back, just a muted disappointment.

I was raised in and with small quantities: little money, little food, little rest and few friends. In my current predicament, survival was relatively achievable.

But with the money gone, I would have to use my scholarship for my expenses and when that would dry up, I’d have officially killed my parents’ dream.

So this girl who consisted mainly of spikes and eyeliner had made my month.

When I arrived at the spot, they were listening to Revolver and a curious vegetable aroma filled the air.

They adopted me eagerly and with curiosity. All artists, some more in theory than in practice I would learn, but all good people; Mayela, Gis, Diama, the whole bunch. I found my in when they started talking about the possible end of the Cold War as I tried drinking my first beer.

It was a pretty house, most likely built in the 60s. Neocolonial or Spanish Colonial Revival if I remember correctly.

The guys left me on the sofa to get some snacks and a tightness in my stomach suggested that they wouldn’t come back for me.

I have always been a sentimental drunk.

Then Meli sat with me.

“If I fall asleep, just keep talking.”

But it was me who felt my eyes’ slow closing.

My head fell on her shoulder, and immediately and literally, I was no longer there.

            END OF SCENE