You can read this item listening background music: “Sitting Down Here” – Lene Marlin
Eye of Cyclops
In the city where I spent summers lived a Cyclops. It was a very old giant, rough skin, gray and dull, who lived almost motionless in one of the squares of the little town. With the first rays of spring sun anemic in the region began the awakening of the one eye that was in summer, I would be watching it all. Her eyelids wood creaked to stretch after the cold, dry winter and could barely blink finest entangled in cobwebs.
That giant survived thanks to my aunt, that fed and cared. She was busy cleaning all crusting of your eye and gently wiped her tears in the spring rainy afternoons. Special care with its lid open or closed if it was day or night, or narrowed to prevent the powerful midday sun damaged his pupil and, When June arrived, tuning the streets of the city, the giant had recovered fully rested her life and look at anyone, animal or object that crossed the square he guarded.
In this manner, with his inquisitorial iris, He watched the truck collecting trash at dusk, who watered the streets at dawn, Baker who got up early; the emaciated greyhound wandering around sniffing, the pigeons across the sky and sometimes dared to land on his eyelids; the coming out of Mass, those who came to the market, those who stopped to chat or walking under the arcades; young provocateurs with laughter, the elderly who shared years in the gatherings, children who had the square tiles or scrambled for sweets; the ice cream cart, Don Fernando selling shoes in the corner shop, Don Isidro who entertained clients at the door of his haberdashery and, as having a powerful telescope, discovered the smoldering cigarette butts on the floor, candy papers abandoned, the gum stuck to the asphalt, pipe shells, the urine of dogs, the scattered crumbs, spitting, sticks, lint, lost marbles… But the inhabitants of the city just perceived that tired old giant who lived with them watching their movements with its huge eye and Snoop.
The Cyclops gossiping the adventures of all citizens crossing the square and sensed their lives. They amainaban his imagined stories boredom in many evenings of solitude. I used to fantasize about passionate love stories between any of the inhabitants and deciphering gestures and glances attesting their inventions. So thought Leticia, He is wearing widow several years down to Mass every evening to meet Don Ramon, I had always lived in love with her. Sometimes supposed stories of teenagers walked together very much against their families, eternally facing land problems. It also noted with envy, the crazy kisses Manuel gave the clerk at the bakery, when he is going to pick it up when closing the establishment or fantasized turbulent political frames between the mayor and council. He claimed that the movement that was in the haberdashery was not only the result of the sale of needles, thread and thimbles, but something strange happening inside. I thought it was some skullduggery of counterfeits as D. Isidro traveled a lot and saw him arrive at dawn in the van with a foreign man, raising the blind Store very quietly and introduce huge boxes and boxes, who could not contain only tape and safety pins. The Cyclops had observed him in his hot night and full moon, when not sleep. That giant was sure, behind that appearance of calm and provincial life that had the city, mysteries and complicated stocks that fed his curiosity and interest hid.
More, although it used to be attentive to every movement was happening in the square, sometimes he succumbed to slumber, and hot afternoons or evening, Wooden narrowed his eyelids and lost consciousness completely sinking into a deep sleep that aside for a few hours of activity and agitation of those people. When he is waking, I used to growl and mutter. Then, regretting falling asleep is desentumecía, because he thought the dream was for winter, when nothing happened and azaraba imagining that he would have missed some summer avatar.
Over the years every summer he made heavier. It was getting very old and constantly creaking bones. In his skin they had made some big cracks impossible to close. My aunt did not know remedies to heal those wounds and experts who had visited him felt that they were not important and were due to age. And also my aged aunt, sometimes, He forgot at night to help the giant to close the lids of his big eye. But the cyclops did not care because those nights enjoying the clear moonlight that filtered through the alleys and silvered his face. And then it did not look so old. Furthermore town, but he lost the bustle of the day, He was clothed in a special mystery and reserved most interesting events to atone: furtive lovers rides, people in and out of bars, drunken brawls, lonely looking company, disorientated cockroaches, cats sniffing among garbage, Readers sheltered from midnight lamps, Sleepless smoking in the window…
But a year something changed routine every summer. My aunt died one night at the beginning of autumn in which I had closed eyelids Giant. And the next morning nobody helped open his big cyclops eye. He warned racking much around but could not see to realize what was happening. He felt his eyelids heavier than usual and that the cracks were even larger and heard their bones click again. For the first time she trembled with fear and felt blind in solitude.
The eye of the Cyclops was closed a long time. No wiped his bleary, and she dried her tears. Nobody fed the giant. The city life was, but the Cyclops could no longer watch.
The huge eye lashes apelmazaron Cyclops and his eyelids threatened to fall into the street. The image of an old and dying giant in He clouded the city square. The possibility that at any moment one of the eyelids that huge eye fell to the pavement worried the people who presented their complaints to the City. The authorities then decided to seek a solution and one morning, aided by a crane, they covered with a huge patch the giant's eye. That was the definitive end of Cyclops. Abandoned by my aunt, without food and light, completely blind, the giant died… And for many vacations I did not know anything more than that huge Cyclops.
After several years I came to the city of my summers. This time the day off was not the reason for my trip. He carried my suitcase feelings of childhood and, especially, all the memories I had from my aunt. But I went through the eyes of an adult and not the child. And when I went down the street framed by arcades to reach the square where lived the giant, reality set in my childhood evocations: a gray building, cracked and ruined culminated Street.
That huge Cyclops summer came alive in my imagination as a child, was but the imposing building where I lived my aunt and a wonderful eye immense glazed veranda with wooden shutters, since she and I would lose the evenings watching everything going on in the city. Throughout many years of my childhood come to life in my imagination that giant adventure, and that wonderful viewpoint had been transformed in my mind into a huge city watchful eye, with the tremendous eyelids seemed their shutters. My aunt had fed my feat putting at my disposal countless stories, sometimes true and some invented, of all the people he saw pass under our strategic balcony. That old house, whose beams creaked and the walls were cracking, and his beloved gazebo came alive for years in my childish mind and became an old gossip giant, restless and curious life of their city.
While reminding us of the epic fantasy in my childhood had recreated, suddenly came the workers of the City. I signed papers not know what they showed me trying to stay composed and steady hand. How was cruel bear tore down the building machines. I thought I heard how the Cyclops moaned but he was already dead. I shuddered again hear the creaking beams and crystals. I felt that I was blind to see the viewpoint crashing to the ground. And I knew he would never look like when that city was small. I thanked sunglasses hid my tears and swallowed the pain of growing up, but I wanted to treasure my memories. And dreaming, such as a child, I could breathe life back into my giant to write this story.
Read more of this author:
COVER IMAGE: Eye of Cyclops (Sondemer)
MUSIC ARTICLE: Sitting Down Here – Lene Marlin
IMAGES OF ARTICLE: Illustration Sondemer