Juan Miguel Vega: The Lady of Time – kudupinter World News Network

You waited in line for five hours to see him; Five hours is how long it takes to get to the other side of the world, but that afternoon, you didn’t go to the other side of the world, you went to the other side of time. Where did you cross the line, not yet … Do you know if it was passing in front of the arch tile, lit by these two green lanterns which are like the eyes of a woman looking towards infinity; two lanterns that Gustavo Adolfo saw from Venta de los Gatos and which allowed him to know where Seville began. Perhaps you crossed it when arriving at the door, trying the cold bars which guard the atrium, where were locked the lost steps of so many desperate people who went there in search of consolation; or perhaps upon arriving at the Mudejar apse, seeing a Roman patrician named Antonio Ángel Franco emerge from Orden de Malta Street, the one who, one Good Friday morning, was responsible for putting order in the armies of the Third Legion, which, two thousand years later, were still celebrating the victory of Scipio over the Carthaginians at the Ford of Estacas; the old Scipio, who from that moment became the brother of Soledad of Alcalá del Río. At some point, which you couldn’t tell when it happened, you started smelling old smells. It smelled like old tavern brandy, like the hot ones they used to make, although they made them like they do now, don’t ask me why, but they smelled different; It smelled of white wine, bocoy wood, glitter. And then you saw people waiting in line that you had never seen before. There he was, his loose pants stained with bakery flour because he had come from work, Pepe Díaz, the baker who carried a photo of the Virgin and his CNT card in his wallet. And you saw a poet with the appearance of an aristocrat who prayed in octosyllables; He said the verses of his prayer in a low voice but we managed to guess them, “poppy in the wheat, brown lily, the Lord is with you…”. And suddenly these verses, shaken by the emotion of a song, began to be sung by a girl from the neighborhood whom they called Juanita. From the hospital grounds then came rumors of a drum on whose taut skin Pepe Hidalgo’s drumsticks were ruffling and it was as if something very big was screaming inside the Earth. You then crossed the warhead into San Gil and finally saw it. Juan Manuel, who had dressed her that evening, was there, proud of his Daughter. In the golden light of the Enrizás candles, the clock no longer ticked. In the background, seated on a church pew, a tormented man held his head in his hands. You heard someone next to you whisper, “There’s the repentant drunk who threw the glass in his face and bruised him.” Finally, it was your turn. You were already in front of Her. And when you saw it, you recognized it that you had seen so many times on the old tiles of old houses; the one your grandfather taught you to love; to this photo that Manolo Toro showed you one day and said: “look how young he is”. It was the same. The little girl from Nazareth before whom time and history stopped the morning when Gabriel went to see her to say: May God keep you, Mary.

Session limit reached

Access to Premium content is open through the establishment you are in, but there are currently too many users connected at the same time. Please try again after a few minutes.

try again