– Luis Royo

I present to you to Soum, Luz’s friend (she wouldn’t call her friend, but let’s leave it like that), with her slanted eyes, with the moon as a sign and source of life (the moon, you know, east, there are still many stories to tell from distant Dead Moon), with her several katanas extraordinarily tempered blades, all dedication in the sect of the 13 moons that exist in Tokyo, (I don’t know if you know it, is not easy a man could have spent even some short hours in that place, Pío Baroja and Yukio Mishima also knew this sect and their connections with the rituals in the caves of Zugarramurdi in Navarra, one day I will tell you about this female order so mysterious), her long black ponytail, with…

On the other hand I’m really tired, what I can tell about Soun on a night like this?. Sometimes one would welcome the female figure, desirable and agonizing of death with his scythe, is not new, so many times I’ve wanted to meet her. I have a childish defense to this, maybe is good to say it in case anyone are in my mood, I think about the whole next year expecting me and I say: at least one of those 365 will be a magical day, if only one, it will be worth waiting for it because it will be a palpable dream. Will be a dream of light. Luz. Someday I have also to talk more about Luz. Did you know that Luz instead of talking sometimes just growls? rather said emits a sound similar to owls. Did you know that there are owls in the lair of Luz? In the same New York… what extrangest cities await us.

When I’ve talked about nights like this, my doctor says, “And what do you think about that?, Why do you think you see it that way?, tell me more about it, try to develop the idea for me. And I look him, poor… These nights you wander through your brain and how many aisles!, they never end… and all of them full of doors, so many doors! Impossible in a short livetime opening a thousandth part of those doors, and also when you open some of them are really scary, what things we carry on our backs without giving nearly account, from where the hell have left so many monstrous glares and how they stayed here?. I look at him and I wonder: will have the poor time to walk through the hallways? Will he have time to open his own doors?. The American was inside one of those rooms years ago, maybe it had been better not to have known him, He’s an egoist’s where you see him, always with the fucking 2038 world, is all that matters to him. These days, I know the Stains have walked also one of his corridors, a rich one, because his eyes sparkle in front of his work, and I am convinced that Hats has also opened a door that has uploaded his energies. How much I miss those halls and those sweet doors each time harder to encounter with.

Chemical things missing in our body says the guy in the white coat. You can get calm chemically, that one could be more in harmony with the environment, can achieve serenity… haha, and that he says comfortably seated in an armchair, has he looked out the window at the world out there? I do not want that harmony, I do not want that calm, I came here to leave!. I do want to keep opening doors, although some affright me, although some bend me and I fell on the floor. I look at him and do not tell what is in those rooms that I open, the beasts I encounter, may he open his if he wants, and if not, may he stay sitting on his ass over his harmony and serenity, may he stay with chemistry.

The only serenity I do envy is the one of the young man that sits on a stone and watch the horizon, years pass and still sitting on the same stone, its beard grows, he grows old and watch the horizon from the same stone, he has never turned his face and his gaze is fixed on the horizon, I envy him. How much time he had to walk through those endless corridors. Open many doors he could opened.

I said Soum has slanted eyes, is agile and alert as a squirrel… well, let Soum come another night with us.


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  • Es realmente escalofriante lo que uno puede ver si vuelve los ojos hacia atrás e indaga en su propio cerebro. En todas las mentes vivientes se esconden monstruos y fantasías, en todas, estamos todos locos y todos somos perturbados. Es sólo que en algunos, ese mundo febril de entrañas se flitra hacia el exterior, nos roba el sueño, nos levanta del letargo y nos pone a funcionar en un mundo paraleo, unos teneis la suerte y capacidad de expresarlo a través del pincel, otros sólo podemos buscar a quellos que manejais tan sublimemente dicha herramienta, cuya sangre derramada penetra en nuestros ojos y nos permite soñar con ellos abiertos. Y en otros nunca se llega a manifestar esa locura tan maravillosa, simplemente viven con miedo a parecer inestables, optan por no escuchar a su fantástica lujuria interior_