Textures #12


it was one of those airless days of july when the heat takes over and even the cicadas stay still the dry heavy air pulled against our skin and the brightness of the sun stung on our cheeks and shoulders we had decided to visit some of those ancient ruins that pepper the mediterranean landscape a friend had recommended them to us “it’s much better than all the touristy places around here you’ll have the place to yourselves” we took the bus from the central station where only another couple of tourists dared will the midday heat the air conditioning was on full and i had to cover my shoulders with the cardigan i always took with me the bus left us by the side of a road where a faded sign directed us down a dusty path after ten minutes we reached a gate where an overweight bald middle aged man sat in a little cabin with a fan blasting hot air on his face he charged us five each to enter and gave us a couple of bottles of water from a portable cooler “las vais a necesitar” the gravel under our feet reverberated in the stillness of the day as we walked by some stone walls apparently they used to be part of the local market we read on the information sign by the entrance it was the middle of nowhere and we were surrounded by dry yellow countryside i had been re-reading lorca’s blood wedding and the hot airless atmosphere brought dreams of the bride and leonardo to my mind “these hands which are yours… what grief! what glass cuts at my tongue! with the silver pins of your veil my blood turned to darkness and dreams they filled my flesh with the rank odour of weeds… with a little knife on a fatal day between two and three two men killed for love” my head began spinning and i took a sip of water we had been fighting recently and the ruins that surrounded us felt like a cruel joke this land with its thick blood and olive skin this land under the spell of a duende dancing through the night and as i plunged onto the gravel and the dust you grabbed me and held me tight so the sound of our hearts beat like castanets and it was you and me again as if dreaming dancing our love away

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s