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INCIPIT-Confessions of a liar

Menstruation had not, I told you the opposite because you do not want to confess that he had fallen again. Idea of \u200b\u200binnocence. Now you know and know well that his blood has bewitched me, it was mixed with mine and in my veins enhancing my heartbeat. The same blood that I left on my belly for three days, a kind of ritual, a tattoo that I surrendered the sacredness of that moment. Although, in retrospect, there was little of the sacred, at least in place. A dingy couch in a big room useless. An architectural delirium of my parents, a place that was to be a little flat for my grandparents, but the ups and downs have become a closet. There was everything in that place, from figs Aunt Yolanda shoes and soccer balls to my brother, a small refrigerator without power vacuum left in the center of room with the door open for air to do that, orthopedic mattresses and set aside everywhere, a cat litter, cardboard boxes full of books in high school, tournament trophies tressette, two benches made of elm with a table attached to my father in his term bricoleur from layoff. In short, the emblem of my family room, where different things can be put together without a sense and where this juxtaposition of useful objects and useless does not scare anyone, but contraio becomes the symbol of a philosophy of life and time to abandon 'waiting. On second thoughts, this might be a reflection of the brothel masked depression of my mother, but this will tell later. My friend, this is only the beginning, I told you many lies behind these lies and there are other secrets they keep lying, but open your ears and listen to what I now tell you. The secrets are well guarded, especially if they are offered by a chronic liar. From this point on, you have agreed on a voluntary or not to perpetuate this secret and those who will tell you, you be a liar. Do not break the pact of silence, you'd need a good strategy and a strong logical architecture to make it seem real that I hide from a life skillfully. In this field I am the master, I may change the reflection of your image, so just listen. After my death, if it pleases you, tells all that was and did not appear, that never happened and it was believed and what could have been, it was not. [more]

Casalbore January 3, 2009

Contribution of view: "Slander" by Sandro Botticelli, 1496