Sunday, January 9, 2011

About Greenhouse Efekt Solution



were clairvoyance, or evocations of a bad dream, or maybe just some deluded and scattered ideas that emerged before the imminent end. Each object in the room brought to mind an old memory, hard, diluted by the time their dye potential cyclic infinite lives. Again I was inside my own nightmares.

I arrived with trembling steps to the center of the room where the hearing was to review with each of my death, where every corner whispering stories was dragging behind me throughout my life, but just at that moment beginning to understand. Leaning against the wall lay a large sheet of wood, worn, worm-eaten, deform its end by the chips were when it was removed with a brutality of old furniture. I approached him, I took my hands and a deep chill ran down my spine when I heard the rough hardness of the wood against my fingers. remembered ... yes, I began to remember ... I was a kid anyone, any time, any city, playing unaccompanied in the middle of a room that could well be the same room that now cause me so much terror. Playing innocent, lost their senses in the labyrinths of the imagination, absent their ideas of the physical world around him. A car, an airplane, a soldier, a story ... anything was enough to make you smile without even aware of its own peace. Suddenly, noises in the house, Mom and Dad fighting again, I do not understand, I can never understand, sometimes I would like not to return anymore either ... Dad says terrible things, I named among their anger and offend me with words that have not reached even get to know. My mother insults him, also shouting with all the force that is locked up in his lungs. My game is interrupted, and the gray of the imagination be exchanged for the black of fear when I realize my own loneliness and helplessness. Sound blows, more shouts, more shots ... the toy that was in my hands dropped, again a lifeless doll, when my father enters the room and their eyes screams insults me insane I do not understand or deserve, with flannel bloodstained hands stained with blood, and smiles at me Wolf grunted as he walks toward me, holding an old wooden table, also stained with the blood of my mother for a few seconds left to scream ... not even had time to get up and run away, run away from that room of fear, because the thud of wood fell full on my temple grabbed me the desire to continue living, a timber which could well be watching it while I continue I remember this old, moth-eaten and dirty wood that I put back into the same corner where it lay not to alter the order of a past that might have been.

I keep my eyes wandering to that room of horror, where everything forgotten and covered with cobwebs and dust tells me my body is not mine, never was, never will be. I look out the room's only window, which seems never to have had glasses, and looked with vertigo the infinite gulf that stretches under my feet. No I have to close their eyes to see the end of that bitter moment when I walked into my room, yes, perhaps this very room, watching this couple of infidels stained with lust each object we had bought together before that good love time to leave for good. Premonitory instinct had prompted me to get home earlier than usual, making no noise, very carefully and slowly the key in the lock of the door. I walked with slow steps to the bed where had sworn many times we love, loyalty, time commitments fell into oblivion, who ate sadness before achieved. There on the bed, too intent on their games to present, they were, yes, that woman and that man who thought he knew so well ... I could not control the pain of my wounded pride, but I discovered too late that insults would not be able to weld something that was broken in my soul forever. He rose from the bed, somewhat surprised and not feeling a little sorry for me and screamed that I stay away, I leave that room, my own room, before worse things happen. I do not know that I stammered ... that would kill them both, that this could not tolerate any man, but in the fight hand and shoving it locks we ended up taking the brunt, because they were four arms and a betrayal of my heart dying. The last I saw before falling into the endless void out the window, thrown by little and little compassion for his terrible hatred was madness in his eyes, a grim smile on his black eyes all the way enjoyed every second of his revenge , who was laughing with my misfortune and my death, my collision with the pavement that was invisible wait many feet below. A window like this, which I left when a slight taste of blood was invaded mouth ...

lit a cigarette, and inhaled two puffs of blue smoke nerve. Many things locked up in that little hell! Forgotten much pain! Like giving up many hidden forever from the mess!

A party outlet, from which came an extension that did not reach anywhere, invited me to keep dreaming. And no teeth, and bent old bones for so many years of struggle against Earth's gravity, waiting for my daughter brought me the food from the dinner, and perhaps aseara me a little, as the mood had that day. I had hoped, with the resignation of that lost everything, that entered at any time in the room, not so much about food, but to confirm the movement of his footsteps and the sound of your breath that the time had not stopped. I heard some whispers from the room, but in my senility I could not interpret. She cried, and told him not to do, that soon would end dying alone. A violent sound of footsteps brought him to my side and stared at me as he had done so many times, sarcastically, scornfully, his face close to mine, her young vanity humiliating my disability. Still smiling, pulled out of the bath a bucket of water poured into the coats worn that helped me fight Warming of the elderly. He poured the liquid gradually, with technique and parsimony, to be quite sure that he had not been any corner of my body without damping. Showed no mercy when asked, had no pity when he saw me shivering, no mercy when he saw me crying with fear and frustration. He kicked my chair to dry, and he said he had reached the final, while the fear of the unknown made me even more wet and wet my pants. He left the room with firm steps, he shouted to my daughter to shut up once, that everything was decided, and went back into the room with that look of horror that is becoming to me going to kill, and with a power ranging amputee at one end in his hands. Without looking at me with a terrible grudge Season each movement, he said which would need to ventilate the room while the cable connected to an outlet near my body was paralyzed. Then he tossed the terminal amputee about me, my old meat ... took me long enough to give up to get to smell the ignominy of my own skin scorched by the flow of electricity ...

The painful memories locked bedroom in every object, every piece of that puzzle inanimate past. A rope tied to a beam, a hammer forgotten on the table, a knife on the wooden roof ... wanted get out of that room, and never come back, to escape the horror that is enclosed on all four walls, but ... perhaps fate prevented me. I did not hear his footsteps as he approached. I saw his body when he passed the door. I only know that once again was the end when gently touched my shoulder when I discovered in her eyes the anguish and the same resentment that always entranced trying to heal their pains archaic with each of my death, when I accepted with resignation that everything would start ...

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