New Site - Story (2016)

Photo of vena rota performance, in the Manzana de la Rivera 2021 - Asunción.

In the small town that was gradually built on top of the mountain, they felt that they were safe. After several sociological, philosophical and even metaphysical studies, a group of educated mannequins that, like worn-out tape recorders, repeated the same thing endlessly, concluded with boring eloquence that they could never feel part of the horrific circus that had been put together in that world and decided to go up and look for , like the hermits, an enclosure where to grope to wait for a worthy death.

It is better to rebuild our life here, as if nothing were happening outside- they said to each other and began the gigantic task of climbing all the things that seemed valuable to the top, the one they knew as the highest point. In suitcases, barrels and even carts they went stealthily during the night between the wooded distances that separated the town from the mountain until one day finally, after a common and wild dawn that they perceived as epiphanic, they managed to settle definitively in their longed-for "new place".

The leaders were three, like the three little pigs, the wise men or the sisters of Cinderella. Three imbeciles of such cheek that allowed them to feel better than the rest for the sole fact of being tired and not having the courage to share humor with the people they saw coming and going from the market, talking about the same football game over and over again, watching the same magazines and be surprised by the same things.

At first, they marveled every morning at their little Babel. Over time, they built their houses and began to choose, by hand of course, the worthy whippersnappers who could be deluded like them by thinking of a different world. Of course they planned to govern and in the end, despite their childish dreams, it would be born within their ambition to improve the germ of the disgusting vice that invades humanity like a plague, the thirst for power.

Years passed and three giant palaces rose on the hill. Their acquaintances from the previous life looked at these buildings from afar and ignored them. Not even that morbid curiosity that is so common in the plebs had been aroused. However, the three founders of the mountain city believed that they would gradually become legends and that their new home would establish itself as an empire across the globe.

As they could, they organized themselves to make that place comfortable. It didn't take long for the first misunderstanding to appear, the initial fight, and as the decades passed, the rivalry between the friends ended up separating the original koinonia, turning it into the very hell they decided to flee from.

One of the three, however, anguished by the meaninglessness of his life, used to get lost in the forest on purpose and even had months of absolute solitude, without knowing one side or the other.

It was so that on one of his expeditions, he could smell a strong aroma of burning among the peace of the green moss that surrounded him and he was seriously alarmed to think that it would be something premeditated, a new war or the long-awaited conquest of one of the the sides over the other. He ran to a nearby stream and dove in up to his nose, certain that there would be no fire to reach him there.

After a few days, the smell stopped and apparently a strange tranquility reigned in the whole environment. Bored with so much mystery, he decided to set out on a journey, but this time back to the civilization that he had previously rejected.

Giant was his surprise to see the whole place destroyed and on top of the mountain in the distance, still some flames rose to almost touch the clouds. A smell of burning flesh wafted through the thin smoke, and her earlier anguish could now know only the bitterness of utter loneliness.

They had all died and their troubles were finally over. Then, he began a dance so free and unknown that he felt like a spirit. His body ran through the charred remains as if he were dancing on soft flowers and some sounds that filtered from the trees made music for his pirouettes.

An echo came from afar like a love song and then he looked towards the mountain. The memories of past times seemed so vain and empty, not even the thought of shared laughter aroused in him the slightest nostalgia.

Then he thought "Maybe I'm the dead man". And with total apathy for the matter, he continued his dance towards the woods, longing for that small stream that from now on would be his favorite place in the rest of the world.

Brune A. Comas - July 2016