Writings

                Jotar's

>>> aka Jorge the Drawer as well as known as Jorge Tarruella

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Monologue of a bee

The ocher was invading all. As arrows with no destiny those gleaming rays were falling down in that October's evening. Any bird was fleetingly crossing the cloudless firmament challenging the golden atmosphere with intrepid flights. The sun light was happily dripping over the slow-motion world formed by groups of people humming around, doing this and that. No one was paying enough attention. Not at all it seemed to move during certain periods. Maybe influenced by the power of the star king the time has been fall in the hole of the collective memory. Nothing behind, nothing ahead. All gold around. Gold and stillness. So it was that October. Made scarce by the humming of thoughts coming from the working bees of that exited village. Bees with no honey and no beehive. Predetermined bees but at the same time with uncertain destiny. The bees was humming, some ones peacefully and inoffensive, some others dangerously aggressive. But leading all they always there was a leader head.

A worm brain, insufficiently beautiful to carry the stigma of the bee. But his cruelty and ugliness only was comparable with his intelligent mind. Worm, yes; but sharp.

The worm thought all the time how to keep bees busy working on benefit tasks for himself. The worm didn't see the ocher colour of October's evenings. As a matter of fact, I believe, the worm was incapable to feel that common warmth of the season. Always between shadows, there he ruled.

Even though, many of the bees wondered ourselves sometimes if it would be worth the effort reigning in the dismal darkness to feel the caress of the October's sun on the skin. And smell the ocher. There was nothing like that. Although our humming was ignored by the most of our congeners, neither them neither the worm could feel such a joy never in their twisted lives. What they would know about the ocher tones of the October's evenings.
Not too much, indeed.

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Mountains in the air                                                                           >>>

Faruk walked alone for that desolate landscape. It was the twilight. Something had moved him away from the routinely search for foods. It had rained and the aroma to wet earth was very strong. It had passed a long time since Faruk had noted that the lights get down from heaven. But this time was like it had parted in two for some instants. Like when Faruk hit rocks between them and these cracked. That made noise. Faruk understood that if the heaven was so big and so long, it was logic that when it cracked and the light escaped, at next the sound was so terrifying. But Faruk didn't want to distract thinking in chaps neither in devastating sounds.

His skin boots swept the land loudly. The floor was almost dry and the peeled earth yielded in front of a short grass that upholstered it. It had been a rare rain. Little water and many lights flooding the heaven. Up there and to the distance were seen yet the white mountains that flew lighting and going out the same as the fireflies of enormous size. Where those mountains went there were rain or cold. Faruk never finished to distinguish them well. When he was sure of that they turned black and slow it would rain, instead there was only wind. And when they got thin and length it was for sure some days of cold would come. Faruk knew that thing very well, and between his people was respected, inasmuch as when he sighted them in the distance and told them to use two skin-coats instead of one.

Faruk advanced and the darkness was accentuating with each one of his footfalls. Faruk knew much about the mountains in the air. He also knew that when they turned red, there far, touching the confines of the earth, they greeted in the sun that it hid in the bowel of the world's stones.

Faruk continued and from time to time observed the land surrounding him, because he couldn't lose. Not Faruk, the searcher, the hunter, the keeper of his clan. He listened to the sounds of diverse beasts between the dense foliage which went growing of size in proportion that he continued and penetrated them. The night closed completely over his head. The thickness of the branches hid the heaven. But Faruk didn't fear to that kind of darkness. He knew that through those branches the giant fireflies that never move were already lighting up. Although it was in moments like these when Faruk desired to have caught one of the fireflies, of the common ones, those who flew at the height of his hands and were able to illuminate well in the night.

Soon Faruk forgot all about small fireflies and giant ones again. He had arrived to a clearing in the forest. Something strange it was happening ahead that was retaining Faruk like root to the ground of that forest. From far he had seemed that maybe with the tremendous sound after the break of the heaven, one of the fireflies should have fallen to earth. And if it was the firefly the cause of the cracking on heaven?. That would explain the luminous chaps, but to Faruk such mixture of excitement and incredulity didn't make more than distract him of his objective. He advanced a few steps towards that thing he was contemplating. Then he astounded, turned back and searched for the wild animal who was approaching and stepping dry branches, producing a strange and constant cracking sound. There were not such creatures. Disoriented, he realised that the crack from branches and leave came directly from that... ...which it was gleaming everything around. It was not a firefly, Faruk thought. He felt the heat of the day in his body and, suddenly, a strong pain in his fingers as he touched that thing. The mountains in the air had throw down a piece of sun. That was Faruk believed and sat down to think what to do about it.

 

 

Dream alla Moebius

The place: Space station Earth-VII. The moment: Somewhere in the XXII Century. Somebody is running through the security corridors. His boots almost does any noise. The alarms, a little more sophisticated only to pay attention to sound controls, already knows about his presence in the restricted area. The section Corridor-Shipment Port can not be violate without the appropriate equipment that should carry every astronaut. Many others try to impede any violation to the security codes. A metallic voice warnings to the unauthorised runner about the imminent opening of the interchange perimeter. A red light turn on at the side of the small chamber where this space-traveller is, and everybody see it.

At the other side, the coldness of the quiet and vast space gets ready to receive him. Someone screams "The hatch is open!" and all of them run to the lateral aisles where an enormous window shows the cosmos immensity out there. An infinite void shapes the interchange hatch, a sector which stands out in perpendicular way to the space platform. All eyes opens wide to see the figure of the astronaut coming out through it. His face shows peacefulness. His eyes opens. They scrutinises situation for a few moments. His hands opens. He separates the arms from the body. Without the appropriate equipment he should not came out. At least that was they'd believe moments ago, all of them, sunk in a deep surprise.

There is no internal blow up. No eyes jumping out from orbits. There is no destructive effect provoked by the implacable void. Just twirls and leaps. The challenged astronaut turns over himself, evolve in space, laughs even if the sound goes nowhere. He is part of the stars, mute witnesses of his outstanding prowess.

Amazed by this inexplicable happening, behind the insulating thick material, nobody can stick off their eyes from his contours. Somebody thinks in loud voice "How it is possibly that a Model 100 can stands so long in deep space without his servo-circuits explodes?". Confronting the ignorance of all ones gathered near the hatch, the one who seems to be the most experienced says "That is not a Model 100". Another replies "But he is alike to us. He seemed so at least". The older droid continues, "Anyone of us could not support the open space pressure. That droid is not a Model 100. Our bio-mechanisms explodes at zero gravity, which is checked for several accidents I have witnessed. That droid is an advanced model, ...or is not a droid. One of the possibilities is the right answer".

But the stars did not care and rocked his figure doing no questions.

 

                                    >>>enough

                                                                                                                    >>>click