They Have To Excuse Due

reflexes thwarted love and friendship

Time goes very fast, but here's a story for people who read my Polytropias. This story follows a book I wrote entitled "Privacy in the throat ... Who has not felt like a character in this story ever? We hope you enjoy! ~ Adal

******************************************* *******************************************

My name is Jose Manuel Narvaez, I have thirty-two years and I have a problem with mirrors. His reflexes disobey me. In the morning when I wake up, there is in front of me, the round moon reflecting in the morning just given birth. I get up, clearing the dreams that are impregnated in my spit and my crusts and I am. But if I see my reflection eludes me look, if I see sideways, I go straight, if I open my mouth, my reflection closes, if the right way my reflection vanishes from the left, if I smile, it makes me pots, if I pout, frown, if I start to frown grins, but my reflection never smiles, never smiles, but when I cry, cry and go away, I'm like the vampires who do not play on any surface.

"It must be a joke," he told me the first day I learned that people see in a mirror is a faithful reproduction of his movements and actions. For me this disobedience was common and normal. I thought that when they walked in front of a window forward people reflected herself walking backwards, until I realized that it was not. Once I sat on a bench in the Plaza Arms and lasted about two hours watching people reflected in a puddle, the conclusion I got was that his actions were exactly the same outside and inside the mirror. When I passed over the pond by accident I stepped hard on him and although my reflection was soaked with clear water that I was completely dry.

One day when the annoyed glare concern led me to the verge of paranoia, there were moments when I felt that by making love to my reflection this viciously attacked me, I stood on the mirror doing absolutely nothing. Without blinking, not breathing, without laughing, almost without even thinking. And then my reflection was not mine. It was my older brother, Pedro. Noticing my surprised face Pedro made a face of indifference. So Peter and I were, contrary to everything. If the rose, I went down, if I climbed down. If he was praised by my father, I received reprimands, if I received reprimands too. That was the only thing that I could match.

"You should be more like Peter, I said my father. "You should learn more about Peter, my mother prayed after each pray for us in the rosary daily. "Why do not you Peter?" He told me the eternal love of Peter to Peter or smoked and for whom I longed to accompany me.

Last night I went alone to the fair. After a cotton candy and a tour of "The Whirlwind", I ran into the house of mirrors, where these reflexes are deformed and humorous, full of balls that are not there and no balls where they should be placed. I paid my ticket for twenty-five dollars and I queued for half an hour. People really enjoyed seeing their distorted reflections in a humorous and writhed with laughter. I entered one room lit by white lights and I walked around in front of the mirror again and again for a long time.

What good investment of twenty-five bucks!

my reflexes finally agreed with me!