Àbito (Dance Macabre)

Is the end of January and it’s raining without interruption since two weeks.
We are rehearsing day and night since days.

I go out.
Where?
I go to the cemetery.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Listen, I’m not coming to the cemetery with you.
Are you afraid of the black rabbit?
No I’m not!

Going to the cemetery is like looking yourself into the mirror, when things overturn.
So, upside down, I decide to leave home.
I walk slowly towards the tree-lined avenue.
It’s been a long time since the last walk and my feet are hurting.

Holding the slow creack of the night gate I get in.
Suddenly the wind rises and with a hand on the head I prevent my headscarf from flying away.
The wind blows on the top of the trees so that the leaves falls down as the rain is falling this days, in torrents.
Pieces of branches and a nest sticks in my hairs while the wind lift my skirt, tear up my dress, a glove flies away and I loose one heel.
I must bend on the right side, to the left and curl up to stand on my feet again, as if the wind is asking me to dance while hitting me with stones straight to the stomach.
A stoning dance.
Macabre indeed.

The wind is blowing on my face up to the inside of the mouth, between the gums, against the teeth, it makes my tongue vibrate. It blows so strong under the eyelids against the eyeball and despite everything I hear him.
He is behind me.
He is not disturbed even inside this storm.
Elegant, black dressed with a gardenia buttonhole.
Hands in the pockets, the wind beat against his solid back.
His hands are big.
His figure is thin at the bottom and big at the top, in the shoulders, with long ears over the head.
He walks confident in my direction.
I run behind the stone wall next to the entry.
I hear his steps on the gravel in the middle of this storm played by an invisible orchestra.
As audience gray trees.
He walks next to me without turning his head.
I close my eyes.

I hold the coat on my right arm, feets in the water. I look at my shadow on the ground, reflected by the warm light of the street light.
I walk slowly back home and I woke up in the full morning.
I seat on the bed with the eyes still numbed.
I hit myself with three slaps:
“Are you sure to come to the world?
They will desperately try to kill you!”.