Guillermo Benitez de Alphonsine was a strange one. One you disconnect the caps of bottles of Cerveza simply denti.Tutti with fake of course. Since a few years before his motorcycle had tried to assess the consequences of an impact on the thin brick wall of a barn. So: right half of his horse. The wall had fallen, the motorcycle was crumpled and he had come under the care of at least three different maxillofacial surgeons. People in the Barcelona leg of the '20s, which was able to put it back together in some way and assure him a new mouth and some scar less. He had recovered well, at least in the powerful physique. A thick neck that probably saved his life and two arms like two tree trunks. Very strong and sinewy. It certainly was not a beauty now. At 26 years was a scarred from forehead to chin, with little hair and vivid blue eyes and responsive. Yes, because Gulliermo Alphonsine de Benitez was not an idiot, I had become much less the effect of the crash. It was simply one who had his own theories. Painter fair fame, writer and poet poor, the simplicity and abstruse scimmiottesca of his verses and his period. Among the ramblas was known as quick to give a hand, scraping the thought and charm crowds, typical of those who have already chosen what to be. Insanely.
When those evenings in the summer came again with his roaring motorcycle and his aviator goggles, you could not not notice it. The medium puffing often stopped on the sidewalk directly most populous and, after a sudden braking and intrusive, as they fell from his horse, leaving damage on the ground that mass of junk. Esteban had not he almost never had to do in those years, in those nights dissolute: considered him an idiot. Simply. One of those from whom it was better, much better to stay away, because it would bring trouble with the talk in the plural, reasoning that the fact of absurd jokes and logistic schemes. Incredible lack of fear and shame. In respect of others, himself. One evening
Gulliermo with his motorcycle was parked blaring, in his own way, directly in front of the table in a bistro, where a couple exchange a series of languid eyes, reflected in a glass of white port. A couple of splashes of black oil, the gears of the motorcycle, were completed on the right sleeve of the white dress of the young woman. A Dutch dancer who was accompanied by a few days to a place of gaga. Immediately he had touched up the fight, with the blood industry for the centaur in the neck dandy, taller than him at least fifteen centimeters. Only the intervention of the girl, apparently able to touch a chord dell'energumeno, had saved his neck His companion and possibly some teeth. Esteban Labruna from that experience on, it was decided to turn his eyes every time they did burst into his circle of friends in high places. Was to some private party, rather than the "Forat Vermell" or that some of the old brothel. But his feelings were strange: after Guillermo, months before she had sunk her nails into her neck, she had the feeling that they had forgotten, not only of his act, but also who he was. The thing could not assure him that, since there is no need for more urgent by the male than to be forgotten and forgotten. When you have been involved in a bad shape on the physical plane. And Esteban, Guillermo, had really threatened to take "firm."
When the eyes of the young architect fell between the lines of daily life was like for some artists have inspired and having to accommodate immediately. As the whistle of a boiling pot that calls you back, or, rather, informs you that the moment of the really arrived. So withdrew the affected page that morning, reversed course and returned to the house of Estrela. He was like a woodpecker in my head that's pounding. Not even two days and would have to go to account by the eminent, must have a clear plan place to rest their fortitude. He knew that without something to foster that, his indecision could cost him dear. Far too expensive.
"And who is this?" The Estrela made by opening the sheet of crumpled newspaper
"It 's an important man, an Italian ..."
said, "What to do with your grandfather?" She added, a little indulgent
"Nothing at least for now ... But this is people who have no fear, they are crazy "
" So what? Do you think you can fit only for this? You are a deluded Amancio ... "
" Well, try not cost anything right? "
" Even just a bad impression ... "She smiled mockingly, but in Fund admired.
As he climbed the stairs circular quell'abitazione the third floor, the young Labruna judged himself how easy it was to be recognized in his city and considered a bit 'disturbing as it was also easy to obtain precise information on any person who attended this microcosm of seething Las Ramblas. Where perhaps we do not know personally, but everyone knew everything. Of all. Guillermo
To find out where he had lived so just ask one of his many acquaintances. He had obtained information about his home and much more: its habits. He knew then that they worked from early until noon, then sleep until the afternoon.
At 10 o'clock that morning she knocked on his door, not without agitation.
"What? -Heard the voice of the artist, burst from the inside - Who comes to disturb? Hush! Away, "said a determined voice, only slightly ironic.
"Mr. Benitez, my name is Esteban Labruna. We know each other ... "ventured Esteban.
"We know eh?" Said Guillermo, while feeling the click of the lock and the door opened.
"Yes, we know, his face is not news to us, as we do not remember, on what occasion ...." A man
"trapu" with two blue eyes and a frown appeared at the door.
"on Las Ramblas, Mr. Benitez, we have presented a month ago ..." I interrupted, not without relief, the architect, and an invitation to go along Gulliermo, I take with a sudden gesture of his head.
"Yes, maybe. What would be the reason for his visit, sir? "In the anteroom, to cuneiform stylize faces painted on metal faces stood out in the dim light. Chromatic-cut and simple in those works. In the air, smell of gunpowder.
"They told me about you the other night. She, as a painter, now enjoys a great reputation in town and ... "The flattered Esteban.
"Yes, yes okay .. This city has a habit of electing the static unchanging reference. We feel inclined to stop painting. "
"Well, not before allowing me to be able to see his works, which I have spoken to many. For her, it might be a good opportunity to monetize. Never hurts, right? "
" Monetize. Monetize. We do not need us to monetize ... We have everything we need here. And even in that which is futile, but it creates movement, it makes our lives less properties .. But we said she is here for our pictures. True? "
" Exactly, "nodded Labruna, passing for a moment the temptation of flattery, you call that being "Master". He, who had been the assistant to Antoni Gaudi. He passed this ridiculous
of momentum and flattering boost ..
"But our executives. Our pictures are not for everyone ... We could say that Labriola is not a question of price and that we could easily give him what they prefer, were it not that ... "He paused play.
"If it were not?" Urged curious and puzzled.
"Except that we are certain that the pictures should be to choose the owner"
"... How does Mr. Benitez?" He Esteban, thinking: "This is crazy."
"In many ways ... Sit down." The artist
motorcyclist did place in a living room full of paintings on the walls, where the stylization of the principal, they were faces, roads, towns, even rural landscapes, it rested on a particular combination of straight lines. Horizontal and vertical. Made by vivid colors and bright, rather than shades of monochrome. How chiseled on the possibility of granting only a dotted linear, with no curves, collapses of natural tondeggiare. In them, dominated the centerpiece of a light that illuminated everything from an original point, often invisible because the external representation, and towards which all seemed to relate to.
was the idea of \u200b\u200ba movement in the stillness of the painting. More: a touching image of speed and could move into a sound that are called upon to listen, with ears of his own artistic sensibility.
Esteban Labruna, waiting for Guillermo reappear behind him, especially liked the depiction of two faces in profile superimposed almost screaming. They liked those outlined cheekbones incomplete as triangles, those noses were pizza wedges, or shims creaky doors. Or even metal nails shiny. And it was true, perhaps, of stylized faces so, the cry arose that could not be of metal redundancy. As to the grinding of certain crane the yard of his master. Perhaps for that non-hear the architect was fascinated honestly, beyond the pantomime that was sent to the scene.
"... understand our art Labruna - Guillermo times - is to understand our particular beliefs. Painting is just one of our ways to express ourselves and it is perhaps most difficult for us. A framework is outlined for all, can express a movement, an idea of \u200b\u200bsound, mechanical nature of representation but as a born and fossilized remains that image. Without modulation, no change. The speech, writing, can change the contrast and better convey the idea of \u200b\u200bspeed, of mechanical nature, a change that is dear to us ... "
Esteban listened without contradicting him. He had never done ...
Benitez had opened the top drawer of his trum and had taken the paper. He began to read ... theatrically
"Stride la
elusive street under the wheels of iron wheeled
remove them from the gravel, sand
stun limps away into the fire station that calls
pof pof pof
roarrr ... ... .. traratatata buuummmm
Whistles the engine oil
steeped in waves of gasoline frying
patricians plebs among drivers of wagons and beasts of men
slow and scrap incredulos
pof pof pof roarrr ... .. tratatatata
pof pof pof buummmm .. ... .. roarrr tratatatata .. buummmm
Roomba engine, pushes the way, fold
plants with puffs of smoke and sewage
on soft undulating reliefs
In chrome handles and headlights thesis pof pof pof
roarrr ... .. tratatatata
pof pof pof buummmm .. ... .. roarrr tratatatata
pof pof pof .. buummmm roarrr ... ... .. traratatata buuummm
Glasses steel strap on helmets
Hands Leather tame cylinders and pistons
Arming of arms on iron bolts and washers
Rays in silver foil fairs
pof pof pof roarrr ... .. tratatatata
pof pof pof buummmm .. ... .. roarrr tratatatata buummmm ..
pof pof pof roarrr ... ... .. traratatata pof pof pof buuummm
roarrr ... .. tratatatata .. buummmm
Stride In the road escaping
iron wheels wheeled
For those metal arms himself
speed greedy "
Esteban stood, sat on the sofa, legs crossed.
open mouth, as if he was lacking not only in words but also his thoughts. Then he understood the nature of that state of ecstasy.
"What the fuck huge!" He thought to himself, to hold back that annoying laugh of a child who rose like a bull in the arena, as pure madness. The same one that makes you lose control of yourself and makes you laugh purple, while you bend in half. And would not you like. You should not.
"It 's beautiful - then he said, almost purple, while the laying -. I feel like a tangle of passions that assail me"
was a miracle that the sentence thrown out, almost mnemonic stop the stubborn mule that hobbled, among a thousand obstacles self-preservation, the ascent of his hilarity.
Alphonsine de Guillermo Benitez had played close to his howitzer gunner. He punctuated his writing as an infant, his face ruddy and repeating the naive to the muffler, the creak of his motorcycle, the clatter of his engine. Then his chin jutting upward, in a pose that would simulate tyrannical attitudes and think they know better of certain policy in vogue, he was. Firm and standing with his hand resting on mobile. Pending dell'applauso.
That came pretty and fake, the palms of his host. False
as pyrite and mockingly in the hands of the prospector.
"Extraordinary, Guillermo. Very impressive "Labruna inflation, now back in control of himself. So polished a little smile of satisfaction to note a bit 'dull from the man's scarred, that he knew he was not really songs.
"You see Esteban. We experience all kinds of art, where art becomes movement, velocity penetrating message and feeling of change. Progress, that nature is bent. The ability of man, by his genius, his creativity. Whether mechanically or artistic "
" I find that its composition, Guillermo, is incredible. Quite capable of arousing emotions, passions, thoughts. What a wonderful gift is the expressiveness of an artist! "
" Yes, I believe ... But we also believe that the ability of artists should also be to select your audience, your audience of listeners. 'S why we do not sell our pictures, nor do we try to expose them. Not declaimed our writings in public and in front of strangers. Do not hesitate our sculptures. We just want to find worthy partners our creativity. We want and we can. Because we can afford. Ergo we are free artists in the truest sense of the word, since it does not depend on money. "
"The nobility of art, free from any compromise. At that shine! "Raise Esteban overflowing with falsehood, those who may exaggerate. "That balloon of conceit." He thought to himself.
"Yes, dear friend." Esteban
thought at that time to have done, to have breached the sensitivity of self-centered that he despised the good painter painting of that poor poet who considered himself a genius of poetic composition. But it was only for a moment, that morning.
"Would you experience unusual?" He asked after Benitez.
"I? I do not know "
" Forgive our frankly looks like we have seen our "Twins metals" ... We would like to give him Labruna, but not before being assured that that picture ends up in the hands of those who can understand its true meaning. It is not an act of no confidence, my friend. On the contrary: it is just a way to make it truly able to appreciate. Appreciate far beyond the image of the painting "
" I'll be there - Esteban answered immediately, swallowing - just tell when and where. " Labriola had the feeling to kick in something, then you would regret. But it was there, had to go through.
"We say now. We say here. Needless to slow down our knowledge, "smiled the scarred blue-eyed, with a vein of subtle sarcasm.
In short, the host Esteban disappeared leaving the room, leaving space for action to his guest. The young architect still looked around, looked at the pictures, you can grab beo of that painting, "Twins metals", and judged what was guessed that title. Somehow he had collected his attention, despite all that and pretend that unfair tease. "Gemini Metals liked, how can pleasure a woman with a particular feature, perhaps far from the canonical beauty, too often, the insane parameter is dictated by fad. "Gemini Metals gave emotion and for a moment distracted by Esteban true nature of his mission at the home of Alphonsine de Benitez.
was not there to take home pictures, poems, he hallucinated for listening, much less to live there .. "Experiences out of the ordinary."
"Here we are," exclaimed the landlord to stop these thoughts after a few minutes.
And Esteban was like getting a punch in the stomach full, so that's almost lost my breath, as from clothing artist, you could see all of the nature of what awaited him.
"No motorcycle, no!" He whispered to himself, the architect, how to dry every desire in a future life.
Standing with hands on hips, swaying slightly, Guillermo had submitted all surrounded by leather garments. Brown pants, black jacket with a collar of the coat. His right hand, clutching a pair of gloves. Pure blacks.
"On our motorcycle, there is room for you too .. You will see will be an unforgettable experience"
"I'm ready," smiled Labruna already my legs were trembling.
"Put this" and handed it to the architect a vest of thick, rough brown skin.
The motorcycle was Italian. A fiery red with a stylized eagle in vigorous reliefs in gilt symbol on the tank. Guillermo you jumped up and settled there as a cowboy who bestrides his mare, with a flick of the heel and then blew up the tripod and shift the burden on the right side, tangled engine rattling and making turns. The submission said Cerberus as a sleepy, but not at all bothered. He set in motion with the crackle loudly about something that is ready for adventure.
"I feel Labruna? - He met the painter, superimposing his voice to the din - It 's the strength of dozens of horses. All here: imprisoned in our hands between our legs under our feet. What a wonderful feeling! Monti ... Fast. " Esteban
Labruna put on the middle and arranged on a rectangular saddle behind the rider. He girded him to life in feminine pose. Resting his head at the nape of his host. He remembered that story. The scars of history
Guillermo Benitez de Alphonsine, his teeth redone, the barn fell. He closed his eyes and he was tempted to throw.
not had time.
Barcelona was beautiful that morning. Shortly before noon seemed to reach the peak of its bright colors and sound. The sun was hot, but still discrete in that season allowed to observe a shining city. In passing, the streets crowded with cars and wagons and horses and the noise and all that he could make it come alive. As the body of a woman who acted in a seductive dance and without malice. As a place that could be dangerous, almost suicidal, cross to the back of a motorcycle. When the driver was Guillermo.
In just over three hundred meters above the centaur painter touched two cars passing in the opposite direction, then makes a gymkhana between two wagons loaded with household goods, dodging the speed of even the blasphemies colored masters, almost hit two pedestrians and then faced a first staircase descent. So, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
was just outside the city, when Benitez began to bend the half on the curves of the coast with sea view, that trip became serious. The painter began to speak.
"We are at 120 miles per hour! Than half that! And 'The world's fastest single-cylinder ... Labruna you afraid? "
" I? No ... "said the architect for a long time not watching the road and more difficult to follow the speech of the artist, whose voice at times was hidden from the wiper shift down, the crackling of convulsive motor. And more Labruna not answer, the more his companion raised his voice to impose it on everything.
"The velocitàaaaaaa! The speed is the meaning of our lives ... Esteban No passion, no life without that. There is only one surviving. I will tell you that we despise those who are content with the usual pace, who does not exploit the mechanics, the scent of gasoline and oil to go further and get there before. No matter where, my friend Esteban, matter what! Comeeeee "Guillermo
The Italian bike seemed the minute faster, more and more attached to the road. Only occasionally covered with asphalt. And it was true, he thought the pupil of Gaudi, that unease in observing the way to become a point infinitely absurd on its path, was out of breath, struck the strings of the deepest instincts of the person. From what he wanted to push Esteban survival to jump down from that mass of iron, to the pride that drove him to resist, to switch to pure fear. What makes you immobile, ensnared, the slave of the inability to react. Guillermo
developments in its mad pushed the motorcycle up to 130 mph, touched two cliffs, in the bend caused sparks between the pedals and the pavement with a disarming regularity. So much so that Labruna, that race o'clock in the afternoon, it seemed more a fight with the devil than the bravado of a simple fool.
A "mad" that, meanwhile, continued to speak
"The feel-Esteban said, his voice overlapping the crackle of the medium, during a frightening turn in a sharp bend - It 's the way that jars ... that escapes under our rubber wheels, which attacks the gravel! It goes beyond the focus of our sight. Where is our goal ... Whistles ... the engine oil soaked in petrol scents patricians frying. Among the rabble of men driving wagons and beasts and slow scrap incredulos ... Can you understand now? He sees it. The palpable! This is the speed! The fury of nature that change, because it changes our point of view ... We're the nature! We decide how it should be and when. WE ARE! U.S. ONLY! "
Esteban felt faint with fear on that trip, he heard the words of the centaur, heard the frightened with the certainty of being in the hands of a madman. Defeated and now believes he has failed.
Then, at the height of a yard that slopes down to the beach, the bike Guillermo, bouncing, he began to decelerate. Then he stopped. Guillermo
turned round to his passenger and hugged him hard. "It 's been a great experience it? ... One of those you never forget, I know. We do not care what people say, the people of the ramblas. We live for this. For this emotion that makes us feel alive. LIVE! Of flesh and blood "
" Guillermo I ask you a question? "He sketched in a faint voice Esteban, when he recovered from the shock along a bike ride of several miles, until you exit to Barcelona.
"His face - he asked - What happened?"
Benitez laughed uproariously hilarious and then burst out sobbing: "It 's true what they say about us, Esteban. We broke the wall of a barn with our second motorcycle, three years ago. " The architect looked dazed, already thinking about the return trip.
"But we're not crazy ... We may say that the problem was not us on our bikes that went to 60 per hour. The problem was that wall that remained stubbornly still! - Rise again, with a sarcasm that Esteban was pleased - but no, tell him that. We say that we had broken the hand brake in the curve and that this impact was inevitable for us. I'm not crazy, my friend .. I love all that progress can give us .. But I'm not crazy, as many believe "
Then he pulled out a plum from the black jacket, rubbed on the forearm and then bit into it as it would a dog with a bone. Her blue eyes shone with a fierce sense of challenge. To himself.
handed what was left of the fruit to Esteban, who repeated the operation on the sound.
Sea on the sunny day was calm and relaxing. So serene enjoy it for a couple of hours on that hot day, was really a relief. Relief and peace to a strange centaur and his smart traveling companion, a really interesting conversation.
midafternoon Esteban Labruna after missing yet another day at the yard, came home ahead of Estrela. Arm had a massive stack of flattened shape and a smile of hope that the woman died away immediately, noting the flush of her cheeks, nose and forehead. "I have cooked well, Amancio - said, fierce -. Seems to jump to the plate. What you have to laugh, so tanned ... "
then discard the package that had proudly Labruna e. port. "They look like two crazy .. Sanitarium of this abomination in my house I do not want it. Throw it away, "he said. Esteban
Estrela laughed and followed him, not realizing until the end.
In the evening, before dinner, she rubbed a bit on the face of the architect 'of moisturizer. One, two times. That was the opportunity to remain silent. A little more '. The occasion
Esteban to take stock of the day, so intense, so weird.
"He will be our guest for a few days. Will hold a lecture tour here in Catalonia - Guillermo had said, smiling -. There will certainly make him an opportunity to meet ... It will be lighting a match. The model teacher is not an ordinary person "
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