Gustavo Valle
The pieces were scattered on the waste ground where there was a dump. I came to my number, I walked toward home, and looked like someone looking at a mirror. I stooped to pick them up, were about two hundred, put them in my pockets and took them rest in my hands. When I got home I put on the table, poured myself a whiskey and began to piece together the puzzle.
I realized that many of the rooms were dark, some with white pintitas and thought, "a night landscape." I was putting together the pieces and the picture that emerged was that of an urban scene: the red of a stoplight, the parts of a taxi (the sign on the roof, a wheel). Also the lighted window of a building. I wanted to guess: "New York, by night." But I soon realized that was not New York. I knew it would lack
parts and would not be complete. But as I insisted. I poured another whiskey, and two hours after I set up all the pieces I had. Seeing the result felt a violent shudder: the image was made up of wasteland, where it accumulated trash picked up the pieces. But unlike the real image, the latter was missing pieces, right in the middle was hollow.
I rubbed my eyes, I thought I had taken too much (just two whiskeys?). I put on my jacket and rushed out. I walked down the street to the vacant lot: "If I can find them looking good," he said, and hurried his pace.
When I was a beggar and selecting open garbage bags. I approached him and asked him if he had seen pieces of a puzzle.
"I have them," he said. He continued rummaging through the trash without another word.
"I can pay for them," he warned as he pulled out my wallet.
, not sold, if you want to put it together here, but the pieces are mine.
The guy looked half mad and I, without question, I said yes, he agreed. Then he drew from his pocket about twenty pieces, put them in my hands dirty on cardboard started to assemble the puzzle missing.
As arming parts, the image of a body would emerge. First the head, then neck, then wrinkled jacket. It was the body of a man on a pile of trash. Then a taxi stopped at a red light and the beggar suddenly ran out. Two types of taxi down, but I kept the puzzle, I was very close.
I heard the taxi call someone shouting. I also heard an explosion, then another, but I ignored. When assembling the final pieces came bright red image of a pool of blood. These were the final pieces together before I could open my mouth and try a scream. I felt a sharp pain, like something burning my chest to get through. Then I came up garbage, and from there I could see the light on the opposite building. The types of taxi fled the whole hurry, my body was paralyzed, and no longer had the strength to move.
After a while he returned the beggar. He approached cautiously, walking slowly, looking at the sides. Then he bent down and rummaged through the trash, and dirty hands grabbed me and put it in his pocket. "I belong," she whispered, these pieces are mine. " Since
Complete a puzzle with missing pieces, waiting for someone to come to completion. I was doing things disappear on stage, I disappeared in a landfill. I do not know if this is the revenge of those objects that have released well away from this world. Moreover, in all honesty, living in a beggar's pocket is not as terrible as you imagine.
I realized that many of the rooms were dark, some with white pintitas and thought, "a night landscape." I was putting together the pieces and the picture that emerged was that of an urban scene: the red of a stoplight, the parts of a taxi (the sign on the roof, a wheel). Also the lighted window of a building. I wanted to guess: "New York, by night." But I soon realized that was not New York. I knew it would lack
parts and would not be complete. But as I insisted. I poured another whiskey, and two hours after I set up all the pieces I had. Seeing the result felt a violent shudder: the image was made up of wasteland, where it accumulated trash picked up the pieces. But unlike the real image, the latter was missing pieces, right in the middle was hollow.
I rubbed my eyes, I thought I had taken too much (just two whiskeys?). I put on my jacket and rushed out. I walked down the street to the vacant lot: "If I can find them looking good," he said, and hurried his pace.
When I was a beggar and selecting open garbage bags. I approached him and asked him if he had seen pieces of a puzzle.
"I have them," he said. He continued rummaging through the trash without another word.
"I can pay for them," he warned as he pulled out my wallet.
, not sold, if you want to put it together here, but the pieces are mine.
The guy looked half mad and I, without question, I said yes, he agreed. Then he drew from his pocket about twenty pieces, put them in my hands dirty on cardboard started to assemble the puzzle missing.
As arming parts, the image of a body would emerge. First the head, then neck, then wrinkled jacket. It was the body of a man on a pile of trash. Then a taxi stopped at a red light and the beggar suddenly ran out. Two types of taxi down, but I kept the puzzle, I was very close.
I heard the taxi call someone shouting. I also heard an explosion, then another, but I ignored. When assembling the final pieces came bright red image of a pool of blood. These were the final pieces together before I could open my mouth and try a scream. I felt a sharp pain, like something burning my chest to get through. Then I came up garbage, and from there I could see the light on the opposite building. The types of taxi fled the whole hurry, my body was paralyzed, and no longer had the strength to move.
After a while he returned the beggar. He approached cautiously, walking slowly, looking at the sides. Then he bent down and rummaged through the trash, and dirty hands grabbed me and put it in his pocket. "I belong," she whispered, these pieces are mine. " Since
Complete a puzzle with missing pieces, waiting for someone to come to completion. I was doing things disappear on stage, I disappeared in a landfill. I do not know if this is the revenge of those objects that have released well away from this world. Moreover, in all honesty, living in a beggar's pocket is not as terrible as you imagine.
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