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martes, 31 de enero de 2017

The Oxaca... Vinicio Castillo. Elia Casillas

The Oaxaca ... Vinicio Castilla
Elia Casillas


"Carlos, did you see the glove?"
-No Vinicio.
"I can not find Carlos, help me find him."

Ahhhh, terrible news for Vinicio. He lost the glove where he put the future, water that did not come from the sky, but the spirit that at one time escaped. When the adrenaline of a catch was there, making sparks and the pain of the hand was confused with the applause. At that time, began the callosities left by the ball, an ineludible mark that would form as a specialist in the trade. From there, he began to watch baseball with another approach. But he was still a child. Yes, an eight-year-old boy, who had lost his glove, a child misplaced in the tragedy of what he wants, of what money earns. Because the silver can not be left aside, since in its mitten the savings, not only of him, but also those of his brother Carlos. Therefore, this event had a double misfortune, since neither his brother of ten years, could have it once again. His eyes widened for the stadium, but this was not enough to see the glove. He crossed each place where he walked with exact step, while, the shoes formed a channel with its swings. Then she cried. At that moment he knew that for a player there is no balm when he loses his gauntlet. This, was part of him, the other extension of his hand, somehow, assistant, comrade, the only one who knew fears and courage. Yes, the bravery required by the third base, the corner that receives the ball, when it becomes a
projectile. It was there, where Vinicio wanted to be, but now, he no longer had his glove. His Mexican Rawling, with whom he imagined in Major Leagues. Ohhhh brackish dusk, staring into the limelight of the hapless, praying that the next day, or that same night, someone would speak saying that they had found him. It was not so. His glove was no longer his glove and he had to accept it. However, each time they went to Zacatlán, they repeated the first time they enjoyed it and felt new skin on their fingers, attaching themselves to the hand. There, in a store in Puebla de los Angeles, at last, they saw the result of the effort, their jewel, when no sacrifice was useless ... They had a glove! There they left their eyes, and the juice of their hands, there were their dreams, every coin was part of that sheath, that achievement that now gratified them with a big tip, his glove, his mitten of illusions. A glove, which now did not belong to them. In a jiffy, impotence became sadness, little by little, sorrow took possession of him, finally came the resignation. Acceptance appeared with the passage of days, months, years, but never wiped that glove, the hurtful drink that would not let him rest. Sometimes, while he was sleeping, someone came with his mitten and when he woke up ... It was all part of a fiction that somehow, he invented in his delirium, the stone that came to crush his guilt over and over again. Again, given to the displeasure, he was scolded for his distraction, for the unforgivable, for not being a fortuneteller and ignoring the current owner of his glove, for not being aware of his gauntlet, for being trusted, for believing that thieves were only part Of stories and novels. He did not know how to see Carlos again, how to tell him that someday he would fill him with gifts, if he was smaller than him ... Already professional, Saraperos de Saltillo stepped forward to buy another gauntlet, this time, it was an original. Then he promised to reach the next target with him and he did. Braves of Atlanta his goal exceeded, the routes in minor leagues, were now a fragment of his hunger, his feet were already terrain of other shoes, he and his glove were on the rails of Major Leagues, marking a history of Mexicans. For years he was with him, but ... The misfortune riveted the nightmare again. He was with the Tampa Marlins, the place of the loss was the same, and mysteriously the glove disappeared. The gratification of three thousand dollars did not convince the one who took it. The person, who stole his mitten, wanted the magic that was in it, nonetheless, ignored that talent was the hands of Vinicio, yes, in those hands that took him to the great circuit. From time to time, the evil dream turns and echoes, remains in the chest of Viny waving the heart. Again, he wakes up in the shipwreck and sees himself in the boy's uniform asking:
 "Carlos, did you see the glove?"
-No Vinicio.
"I can not find Carlos, help me find him."




CONCIERTO CHOPIN Con Pajaro Loco y Andy Panda Version completa