Libro: "Los silenciosos".

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Return from death

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From the sky, cities were seen as huge swarms of cells that glowed and darkened permanently. The shadows advance or retreat to the swaying of the winds that seemed to accommodate the new circumstances. The shadow of death had left us. The struggle of science , doing research with its thousands of eyes in the depths of living beings, and listening in the different forms that it presented, they could never defeat it. It didn't matter that they cornered her momentarily. She multiplied because she needed her shadow to hover over all of us. Some despised her and amused themselves by calling her at the wrong time. Yet she was rushing to do her duty. He quickly organized his abode. Then came the rigidity of the body, and very soon the worms merged with it into a new being that was integrated into nature. He patiently spun the decomposition of one life, transforming it into another, until it became part of the matter from which it had been germinated. He enjoyed all of this. I can't ...
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The Bicharos

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  -Daddy, what is a Bícharo? The child asked the father who told the strangest stories of the beings who populated the earth, from the beginning of the centuries, like any event that occurs daily. - A Bícharo," he answered",is a rare animal or species that is born every few millennia to give new life. It is not known where it comes from or what the process of its formation has been. We know how it reproduces and we know it from the stories that our parents passed on to us from generation to generation. It is a species that seems to come from a different world than ours, as it resembles the sea dancing in the air. - Come on, said the mother, Don't fool the kid with those stories. You look like a madman, making up nonsense. - Mommy, mommy," the boy interrupted. Let my father talk about the bichos, let's see if... - Bullshit, that's all. Replied the mother. And without waiting for any answer, she left the room to enjoy the night that let the fireflie...
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The other

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The other looks at me silently. I look at him with the same look. There is no handshake or talk that breaks the silence. We both recognize each other after knowing our existence for a long time. We have many things in common. But even so, friends get confused with our attitudes. They think it's me, but no, it's the other. Rather, it seems that we are playing hide and seek, as we have never met before. They hate me when they see me serious, and they hate my attachment to vain things. They like to see me as the other. We cross our eyes without saying anything, and they reflect the animosity we have for each other. I break that reflection into a thousand splinters wanting to end that chance encounter. I turn around and leave the room in a daze thinking about the common things that tie up our lives. I manage to hear the noise that the other makes reconstructing the mirror, in order to look at myself again and detest with equal or greater force everything that I represent. The oth...
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