Creative Writing: The Cold War

It's a rainy day, of that kind of thunderous rain that digs your cheeks when, needlessly, you seek with the nose a cheekbone of sun. It's a day, this one, in which the rain seems not to find peace, and it collects inside the hands' baskets of beggars and spreads over the din of roundabouts, when the road is a long canvas punctured by irregular splinters of sky, disturbed by gargling traffic and tires and nervous girls with wet skirts on the sidewalks. I observe the rain while the street narrows at the foot of a kilometric residential facade beyond which there exists nothing, a one-dimensional militarized front that declares us Cold War, littered with windows fragmenting the mirror image of the opposite trench, that which, pigeonholed, also …show more content…
Rogers, I would have sought in you the friendly complicity of who needs someone else's ears to endure the mute pain of the grenades with, the menacing heavy floating of the sharks by the pale eyes, the restless somersaults of barracudas' shoals, in their unconscious wait for the descent of darkness over the seabed; the turbid elegance of eels, the thrushes by the transparent colors - marine spectra, the squids with paper helmets whose movements remind terribly of the ancient grace of your silks. I wonder, Mrs. Rogers, whether in your pale eyes, in the blackness of your window might be hiding the deepest point of the abyss, if your absence is synonymous with desertion, whether once and for all you have decided to throw all hostilities in the black hole, to stop counting the days and the dreadful sounds of the square lights which, one by one, dejected, switch off every night into the silence of the world. I like to imagine you now, Mrs., lying in a peace of January mornings, your weapons deposed inside the dunes of that desert that covers everything that does not exist beyond this war belt. Perhaps you will get up forgetful of the rain swirling a thousand leagues above our aquarium, you will brush aside the curtains with a smile of wet pearls that see the light for the first time, you will look down on the desert and it will not be to push yourself beyond,