Archive for 14 June 2007

June 14th

Friends are the most important part of anyone’s life. They grab you when you’re about to fall, they open your eyes to the truth, they guide you to the best place. I don’t know what I would do without my best friend.

Today was a terrible day. I was forced to wear glasses because the oculist had to check me, I had to bear with several mockings, and I felt so stupidly ugly! So I decided I was by no circumstances going to go to the cinema…

I told her this, and she convinced me to go! I just don’t know how she did it… it’s like magic… SHE is magic!

 I LOVE you PAUU!!!

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14 June 2007 at 9:57 pm 1 comment

When Roads Meet: Page 1

Chapter One: Reunited 

It all began in a mild winter’s morning. It was the 20th of July, but I did not know that until later. There was nothing special in the day, nor in my routine: wake up, have a shower, grab my laptop and write. Every day seemed to be the same; I knew no difference between Mondays, Saturdays, or any day, month or year, for that matter. I knew my age vaguely, I knew the year vaguely, but as for the day or month, I hardly had any idea, so I did not know when it happened, but it did, and it changed my life completely.         

    It all began with the ringing of a bell a 10:00 am exactly. I went downstairs, by the stairs rather than by the lift; if it works, it’s likely to stop any minute, like everything in the building I lived in. Its walls were bare, not even painted. If you use the stairs without being well acquainted with them, you are likely to break a foot. If you use the lift, no matter how well acquainted you are with it, you are likely to get stuck there, and you won’t be rescued for about three days, if you are lucky. The flats are rather luxurious… considered to those who live outside. They have a bathroom, and one room, with a kitchen, and you have to use it as a bedroom too. When I first bought it, everything was a mess, filthy and disgusting; the simple sight of it could make you vomit. But through by hard work over four years had turned it a bit jollier, with a few pictures and drawings here and there.       

     At the door there was an elderly gentleman, which had once been tall, but had shrunk with age. To me, a young person, this man seemed ancient, but he couldn’t have been more than fifty years old. You could see wrinkles all over his face, yet, his built was large and he wasn’t thin or weak. Neither was he fat, or overweight. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, and you could clearly notice he was a very rich and influential man. I was surprised to see that kind of man on the doorstep of my building, in one of the poorer and uglier places in the whole of Buenos Aires.        

     “Who are you looking for?” I asked intrigued, with an idea. Maybe that man was the father or uncle or something like that of one of the people that lived in other flats. Strangely, he looked at a small piece of paper and replied:          

  “Excuse me, I don’t speak any Spanish, I wish to see Maria Gonzalez, she lives in the 1st floor, flat C.” I knew my jaw fell freely. That man was speaking perfect, Oxford English, an English so uncommon and extraordinary to hear that I wanted to laugh, and cry at the same time, for when I heard it, I felt a great want to return to England, greater than I’d ever had for just under 10 years.         

    “I’m Maria Gonzalez,” I said in my fluent, but not-so perfect accent; I had lost it through the years.  

14 June 2007 at 9:22 pm 1 comment


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