{"id":158686,"date":"2020-04-28T01:57:03","date_gmt":"2020-04-27T15:57:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/errr-magazine.com\/?p=158686"},"modified":"2022-08-31T00:54:08","modified_gmt":"2022-08-31T05:54:08","slug":"nuestra-ultima-combustion-tu-recuerdo-y-yo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/errr-magazine.com\/english\/nuestra-ultima-combustion-tu-recuerdo-y-yo\/","title":{"rendered":"Nuestra \u00daltima Combusti\u00f3n (tu recuerdo y yo)"},"content":{"rendered":"

“Half of what i sat is meaningless,<\/em>
\nbut i say it just to reach you…”<\/em>
\n-John Lennon<\/em><\/p>\n

Repentinamente hoy te record\u00e9. Lo hice con la canci\u00f3n con la cual indirectamente te despediste, la colgaste en tu muro de Facebook<\/em> antes de borrarme con unas palabras que no recuerdo m\u00e1s que como se sintieron: agujero de mi pecho, abismo de emociones. De hecho, la descargue para que un d\u00eda cualquiera (como hoy) vinieras a m\u00ed de esta manera. As\u00ed, sin antelaci\u00f3n alguna, sin avisar.<\/p>\n

A\u00fan te visualizo sentada entre los pasillos y escaleras de la escuela, con la mirada difusa y con alguna canci\u00f3n de Caloncho<\/em> de fondo que se apodera de la atmosfera desde la bocina de tu celular. Realmente eres\/fuiste algo muy especial. Nadie sabe de ti, m\u00e1s que yo, yo y mis entra\u00f1as y mis memorias m\u00e1s p\u00fatridas que a\u00fan te recuerdan. Hoy te record\u00e9 entre los pasillos del metro Ermita<\/em>, hace ya casi dos a\u00f1os que te vi ah\u00ed por \u00faltima vez, aunque t\u00fa no a m\u00ed. En ese momento mi impresi\u00f3n fue tanta que no pude dirigirte palabra alguna, no sabes c\u00f3mo me arrepiento de eso, desde ese d\u00eda me hice un poco de la ilusi\u00f3n de poder volver a encontrarte por ah\u00ed emergiendo de entre las multitudes de la Ciudad, pero nunca sucedi\u00f3, ni suceder\u00e1.<\/p>\n

Por lo mientras yo contin\u00fao cantando y caminando estos pasillos tratando de incorpor\u00e1ndome al subterr\u00e1neo con aquella canci\u00f3n que solamente puede mostrarme tu imagen como sombra viva, silueta palpable en donde yo pueda fabricar alguna despedida buena, formal, como para saldar viejas deudas. Pero no. Sab\u00eda que seguir\u00eda qued\u00e1ndome con las ganas<\/em>, trag\u00e1ndome estas palabras y los ‘adioses’<\/em> que jam\u00e1s nos diremos y los \u2018silencios\u2019<\/em> que nos llevaremos hasta la muerte. Y entonces te vi, estabas para ah\u00ed, en el balc\u00f3n del final del pasillo, inm\u00f3vil, como esperando a que algo pas\u00e9. Realmente no lo pod\u00eda creer, detuve un poco el paso y luego contin\u00fae, sab\u00eda que era el momento, me arme de valor, respire y decid\u00ed s\u00f3lo entonar pasos firmes…<\/p>\n

“Es un milagro encontrarte por aqu\u00ed”, dije, volteaste clav\u00e1ndome la mirada sin ninguna sorpresa para luego continuar mirando hacia la nada. “\u00bfC\u00f3mo has estado?” pronuncie para as\u00ed tratar de romper el silencio que se nos ven\u00eda encima. De nuevo no dijiste nada y eso me desanimo. “\u00bfQu\u00e9 has hecho?, \u00bfest\u00e1s bien?”, pregunte en un \u00faltimo intento, y de nuevo nada. Justo cuando iba emprender la retirada, tomaste mi brazo y dijiste “ven, vamos por un poco de piedra”, y soltaste una carcajada dulcemente endemoniada. Ah\u00ed estabas t\u00fa. Sab\u00eda que no te hab\u00edas ido a ninguna parte. Corrimos desesperados en sentido contrario al de todas las gentes, mientras me murmurabas historias sobre los \u00e1rboles que caminan y lo bueno que era tocarse los botones del su\u00e9ter como m\u00e9todo preventivo al escuchar la sirena de una ambulancia alborotada. Al despejarnos de todo el gent\u00edo, nos detuvimos enfrente de los cristales que dan a la gran Calzada de Tlalpan<\/em>. Mencionaste que hab\u00edas cambiado, que la vida nos hab\u00eda tomado por rumbos distintos y que ya no eras nada de la chica que yo buscaba. Hasta la fecha jam\u00e1s logre entender a qu\u00e9 te refer\u00edas exactamente, en ese momento yo s\u00f3lo quer\u00eda darme el lujo de observarte detalladamente, de guardarme bien esta vez tus facciones en detalladas, antes de que desaparecieras y te me perdieras de nuevo.<\/p>\n

Prendiste un cigarro y de inmediato record\u00e9 cuando me incendiabas el esp\u00edritu con tus manos, tus labios y tus palabras, tus historias descabelladas; jurar\u00eda que ahora fumas demasiado, tienes los dedos amarillos, te tiemblan las manos y eso nunca es buena se\u00f1al. “Dime la verdad” exclame firme y curioso mientras t\u00fa ya te prend\u00edas el siguiente Marlboro<\/em>, “\u00bfllevas tiempo as\u00ed, cierto?”. El humo s\u00e9 nos dispers\u00f3 en la cara y rellenaba la distancia entre ella y yo, se apoderaba del ambiente y de la atm\u00f3sfera densa, comenc\u00e9 a medir su silencio-ausencia en cigarros prendidos que se consum\u00edan tan r\u00e1pido por su inhalar desesperante. “S\u00ed, llevo tiempo as\u00ed”, pronunciaste ajena y a destiempo. “\u00bfPara qu\u00e9 me buscas?, \u00bfa qu\u00e9 chingados viene tu pregunta ahora?”, me soltaste a modo de reclamo con voz irritada, desesperada. “\u00bfCon tu irte y no irte te vengas de m\u00ed?”, remataste. Me quede fr\u00edo e inm\u00f3vil (como siempre) mientras que el humo del cigarrillo segu\u00eda intoxic\u00e1ndonos la ra\u00edz de las palabras. “S\u00f3lo quer\u00eda verte por \u00faltima vez, fingir que al menos tuvimos una despedida tenue” te solt\u00e9 eso mirando al sol que ya se escond\u00eda entre las nubes y los techos caro y de l\u00e1mina que la ciudad iluminaba.<\/p>\n

“Los recuerdos nunca se agotan, Mar\u00eda, solo se camuflajean entre las heridas vivas y las cicatrices latentes, y a veces no regresan nunca; aunque el nuestro s\u00ed, va y viene dentro del cuerpo porque tiene nuestras v\u00edsceras expuestas llenas de sentimientos. Perd\u00f3n por volver a buscarte y molestarte, perd\u00f3n por traerte aqu\u00ed sin ninguna cl\u00e1usula consciente, o real, por favor olv\u00eddame, \u00a1olv\u00eddame y \u00f3diame!, al menos as\u00ed sabr\u00e9 que seguimos compartiendo\/teniendo un sentimiento de por medio”, conclu\u00ed.<\/p>\n

Me desclavaste la mirada y me entregaste lo que te quedaba de tu coraz\u00f3n negro consumido por el humo ciego de nuestro secreto. “Es que no puedo odiarte, \u00a1odiarte nunca!, fuiste lo que m\u00e1s quise en esta pinche vida y por eso me largu\u00e9”, respondiste enseguida antes de que pudiera exclamarte alg\u00fan suspiro lleno de justificaciones, “tampoco puedo olvidarte, no te olvidar\u00eda jam\u00e1s, te quiero, fuiste guerra y paz, iluminaci\u00f3n y oscuridad, dolor e incertidumbre, no sabes cu\u00e1nto me doli\u00f3 entender…”, suspiraste, “entender que fuiste lo que siempre cre\u00ed que me hab\u00eda robado, pero no, en realidad llegue tarde…”.<\/p>\n

El silencio retumbo y hasta ah\u00ed llego todo, las \u00faltimas cenizas de tu cigarro se desprendieron antes de tocar la colilla, se posaron entre las peque\u00f1as l\u00edneas que delimitaban la palma de tu mano y sin meditar nada las soplaste, enmarcando as\u00ed la escena final, totalmente cruda y po\u00e9tica como si de alguna pel\u00edcula de Luis Bu\u00f1uel<\/em> se tratara. Aquel acto lo dijo todo, me cay\u00f3 como bald\u00e9 de memorias fr\u00edas. Nuestra historia de amor se hab\u00eda ido, se hab\u00eda acabado, ya no hab\u00eda m\u00e1s, se hab\u00eda esfumado como las cenizas de aquel tu Marlboro<\/em> arrugado, y ya no hab\u00eda m\u00e1s: “soplaron las cenizas, volaron las cenizas…”<\/em><\/p>\n

Para cu\u00e1ndo reaccion\u00e9 yo ya me encontraba en el subterr\u00e1neo, parado sobre la l\u00ednea amarilla que delimita la vida de la muerte, el caos del orden, fue el ruido del aire que emite el monstruo naranja a su llegada lo que me despert\u00f3, no sab\u00eda ni tenia consciencia de lo que realmente hab\u00eda ocurrido, hasta ahora lo falso y lo verdadero sean vuelto la misma cosa, una fusi\u00f3n de lo et\u00e9reo dentro del viento escabroso que me tumbaba y m retumba y me rompe las m\u00e1scaras de sentimientos envueltos en cal, ahora mismo s\u00f3lo me queda esperar a que este palpitar incesante se esfume y nos vuele lejos de nuevo, que por piedad este incendio en el pecho se aleje de m\u00ed; de m\u00ed y de tu recuerdo.<\/p>\n

\u00a0“Ven aqu\u00ed
\npeque\u00f1a ven aqu\u00ed
\naunque luego te tengas que ir amor,
\nlo entiendo.”
\n<\/em>
\n-Canci\u00f3n de mi playlist.<\/em><\/p>\n

Photography by\u00a0Camerafilmlens<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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