TEXCAL

Machete Galería
March 25 to
April 22, 2022

I tremble and no one hears. The light from lamp post number seven follows me down the path that little by little becomes a sidewalk. I carry on my shoulders the dead weight of a cold blue bubble. As I approach post number eight, I turn to see the sky. A thunderbolt seems to shake the town’s deepest foundations. I remember the vision I had at noon and I pause. The view before me doesn’t reveal what the earth hides.

A weight moves over my feet like a warm branch after sunset. My first impulse is to run, but the form has already taken over the nearby territory. I breathe deeply and quickly. I watch my feet. The form is advancing. It pauses for a moment. I manage to see ohw the light creates a cold reflection in its eyes, as crystalline as marbles. I observe myself: I note how my legs weaken out of fear. The shape seems to watch me. It remains still. It keeps observing me. In the distance I hear the rumble of a motor. A lighthouse approaches. She continues watching me, now moving slowly, her gaze fixed on me. The lighthouse il- luminates her body. I notice her rings, but I can’t tell how many there are.She keeps moving. She arrives at the pile of stones and sneaks away through them. The sharp bulk of their shapes don’t stop her. She keeps moving and little by little she disappears.

I continue on the path, knowing I could have disappeared forever in her cold gullet. She did not forgive me. The eternal debt was completed. She did not whisper to me the final stretch. She merely observed me. I understood that that day beneath the web of flaming trees, where the right word does not exist, we made an eternal pact.

Abraham González Pacheco