I’ve just
registered my book in the intellectual property registry. “El Color de Mallorca”.
Tuesday 24 March 2015
Monday 2 March 2015
LET'S GO TO THE VILLAGE
A friend of mine has asked me to accompany him to a local celebration in a village
nearby. About a year and a half ago he was working for a language school in that place.
He was delighted with the job, but it was a bit unstable. Thus, as soon as he found a full-time one, he resigned at the school.
Since then, my friend has never gone back to the village. This is just the
result of modern life: we are always pressed for the time. But
winter sales produced a miracle: some former pupils came to Palma for a shopping
spree. And thus, a couple of weeks ago he met a former student who, visibly
worried, asked him about his health.
Some days afterwards, he coincided with another former student. He also
asked him how his “illness” was going on. This time however, my friend received
further explanations. Apparently, as he resigned at the school, the headmaster
told all his students that the teacher had left his job due to a mental disease
which forced him to go back homeland to receive maternal care.
World history is full of lies and unsubstantiated rumors. Famous are more
exposed to slander, but the humblest may eventually be its victims too. Who
does not remember the famous “crime of Cuenca”. At that time, Gregorio Valero and León
Sánchez were wrongly accused (and jailed) for the murder of a shepherd. The
truth would finally come to light in early 1926, when the “victim” (which was
alive and “kicking”) sent a letter to the priest, requesting a certificate of baptism to get married.
My friend has decided to visit the next local celebration dressed in his
best clothes and accompanied by his wittiest friends.
http://www.fernandezbaladron.com/
Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón
Usted puede utilizar este enlace en su página, reenviar este texto o distribuir el documento completo de forma GRATUITA y SIN MODIFICARLO. No puede modificar, extraer o copiar este texto sin la autorización de su autor.
Copyright Luisa
Fernández Baladrón
THE BEST COMPANY
Last Wednesday a little pupil of mine
asked me if I had children. “Not even a boyfriend? Nor a puppy? Do you live
completely alone? Don’t you feel rather lonely?”
But at home, in our own four walls, with a cup that smells of raspberry, our feet in slippers, a piece of paper and a box of colors on the table; on my chair, listening to my favourite music and reading my books, there is no solitude at all, but a mere sense of belonging.
In fact, I had neved felt more accompanied
than in the four walls of this flat. Living with the freedom of doing, writing,
reading, painting and talking to everyone via Skype or phone. Without the
restriction of having to offer any explanation about every single “strange”
detail. Such as having a cup of tea at any time or having an Spanish omelette
for breakfast. Leaving my bedroom door open while I sleep; wacking up at daybreak
without the bleep of an alarm clock. Painting doodles. Wrapp in a blanket when
I get out of bed. Enjoying a warm shower. Studying or writing late. Welcome
some friends at home; reading a book together and talking until late. Tie the
bike at the front door. Laughing like a teenager. Talking with someone on the phone
without having to pay attention to other people that may find it inconvenient.
It is amazing the warmth of that company made of pencils, books, computer, tea
and heating.
Loneliness is meeting people you have
nothing in common with. It is sitting in the company of those who consider each
of our decisions a symptom of insanity. It is meeting with that friend of ours
who advises us to go to a psychiatrist because we have changed our job once
again. He, who has had more than thirty different jobs during his labour life.
He, who was once married, then divorced his first partner and then got married
again. He, who does not visit the children of his first marriage and insist on
adopting children with his second wife.
Solitude is been a victim of
discrimination on grounds of race, origin or social position. It is that silly
joke about people who were born in a particular place. It is that boyfriend who
once tells you that, actually, he is still in love with a teenager whom he
never dared to declare to thirty years ago. It is that colleague who casts
doubt on our ability at work; it is that boss who takes advantage of their
position to revenge against his miserable childhood. It is that dog which decides
to urinate right on your shoe.
But at home, in our own four walls, with a cup that smells of raspberry, our feet in slippers, a piece of paper and a box of colors on the table; on my chair, listening to my favourite music and reading my books, there is no solitude at all, but a mere sense of belonging.
I add my photo for the “throw back
Thursday”. Palma, July 2006
http://www.fernandezbaladron.com/
Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón
Usted puede utilizar este enlace en su página, reenviar este texto o distribuir el documento completo de forma GRATUITA y SIN MODIFICARLO. No puede modificar, extraer o copiar este texto sin la autorización de su autor.
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