Sunday, August 24, 2014

Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios

 Hello, I’m the mother of the notorious Crossroads Killer.  When my son comes home after one of his famous crimes, his clothes are just filthy.”  -Pepa

In the Parc de la Barceloneta, we sat beneath trees sipping cold drinks and watching the people pass.
 “How many men have you had to forget? 
As many as the women you remember.”  -Pepa

One woman was saying to this man who held her hand, "The first time I saw you, I hated your guts instantly.  Just hated your face, hated your voice, hated your nose.  I never had such an intense reaction."
 “You could have killed yourself?”  -Pepa
“That was the idea, I’m desperate!”   -Candela
“So am I, but I don’t jump off terraces.”  -Pepa

Another woman was pondering aloud if jellyfish had souls...
 “I didn’t know where to go.  I couldn’t face my folks.  It’s bad enough that I became a model.”  -Candela

Still another woman was smoking and talking about her shoes, how the cost in Europe was so expensive and no one appreciates how much her shoes cost back home, and how personal she takes that.  Why can't more people recognize her sacrifice in footwear.
“That lady is dangerous.”  -Pepa
“No lady’s dangerous if you know how to handle her.”  -Cabbie

Then this woman came to our table and warned us about gypsies.  How we always had to be on guard.  They'd work in teams, distract you with one, steal you blind with another.  Pick a pocket.  Swipe a camera.  Watch out, the gypsies were trash.  I sat and watched and listened to all these women, sipped my drink, and watched some more.


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