[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost so many times and now was
found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment, and
impossible dreams.
I kissed him hard. The few people there in the bar must have been thinking that
all they were seeing was just a kiss. They didn't know that this kiss stood for
my whole life and his life, as well. The life of anyone who has waited, dreamed,
and searched for their true path.
The moment of that kiss contained every happy moment I had ever lived.
He took off my clothes and entered me with strength, with fear, and with great
desire. I ran my hands over his face, heard his moans, and thanked God that he
was there inside me, making me feel as if it were the first time.
We made love all night long our lovemaking blended with our sleeping and
dreaming. I felt him inside me and embraced him to make sure that this was
really happening, to make sure that he wouldn't disappear, like the knights who
had once inhabited this old castle-hotel. The silent walls of stone seemed to be
telling stories of damsels in distress, of fallen tears and endless days at the
window, looking to the horizon, looking for a sign of hope.
But I would never go through that, I promised myself. I would never lose him. He
would always be with me because I had heard the tongues of the Holy Spirit as I
looked at a crucifix behind an altar, and they had said that I would not be
committing a sin.
I would be his companion, and together we would tame a world that was going to
be created anew. We would talk about the Great Mother, we would fight at the
side of Michael the Archangel, and we would experience together the agony and
the ecstasy of pioneers. That's what the tongues had said to me and because I
had recovered my faith, I knew they were telling the truth.
Thursday, December 9, 1993
I awoke with his arm across my breast. It was already midmorning, and the bells
of a nearby church were tolling.
He kissed me. His hands once again caressed my body.
"We have to go," he said. "The holiday ends today, and the roads will be
jammed."
"I don't want to go back to Zaragoza," I answered. "I want to go straight to
where you're going. The banks will be open soon, and I can use my bank card to
get some money and buy some clothes."
"You told me you didn't have much money."
"There are things I can do. I need to break with my past once and for all. If we
go back to Zaragoza, I might begin to think I'm making a mistake, that the exam
period is almost here and we can stand to be separated for two months until my
exams are over. And then if I pass my exams, I won't want to leave Zaragoza. No,
no, I can't go back. I need to burn the bridges that connect me with the woman I
was."
"Barcelona," he said to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's move on."
"But you have a presentation to make."
"But that's two days from now," he said. His voice sounded different. "Let's go
somewhere else. I don't want to go straight to Barcelona."
I got out of bed. I didn't want to focus on problems. As always after a first
night of love with someone, I had awakened with a certain sense of ceremony and
embarrassment.
I went to the window, opened the curtains, and looked down on the narrow street.
The balconies of the houses were draped with drying laundry. The church bells
were ringing.
"I've got an idea," I said. "Let's go to a place we shared as children. I've
never been back there."
"Where?"
"The monastery at Piedra."
As we left the hotel, the bells were still sounding, and he suggested that we go
into a church nearby.
"That's all we've done," I said. "Churches, prayers, rituals."
"We made love," he said. "We've gotten drunk three times. We've walked in the
mountains. We've struck a good balance between rigor and compassion."
I'd said something thoughtless. I had to get used to this new life.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Let's just go in for a few minutes. The bells are a sign."
He was right, but I wouldn't know that until the next day.
Afterward, without really understanding the meaning of the sign we had witnessed
in the church, we got the car and drove for four hours to get to the monastery
at Piedra.
"The roof had fallen in, and the heads were missing from the few images that
were still there all except for one.
I looked around. In the past, this place must have sheltered strong-willed
people, who'd seen to it that every stone was cleaned and that each pew was
occupied by one of the powerful individuals of the time.
But all I saw now were ruins. When we had played here as children, we'd
pretended these ruins were castles. In those castles I had looked for my
enchanted prince.
For centuries, the monks of the monastery at Piedra had kept this small piece of
paradise to themselves. Situated on a valley floor, it enjoyed a plentiful
supply of what the neighboring villages had to beg forwater. Here the River
Piedra broke up into dozens of waterfalls, streams, and lakes, creating
luxuriant vegetation all around.
Yet one had only to walk a few hundred yards to leave the canyon and find
aridity and desolation. The river itself once again became a narrow thread of
wateras if it had exhausted all of its youth and energy in crossing the valley.
The monks knew all this, and they charged dearly for the water they supplied to
their neighbors. An untold number of battles between the priests and the
villagers marked the history of the monastery.
During one of the many wars that shook Spain, the monastery at Piedra had been
turned into a barracks. Horses rode through the central nave of the church, and
soldiers slept in its pews, telling ribald stories there and making love with
women from the neighboring villages.
Revenge although delayed finally came. The monastery was sacked and destroyed.
The monks were never able to reconstruct their paradise. In one of the many [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

razem.keep.pl