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"Yankee Doodle Went to town,
A-Riding on a pony;
I stuck a feather in His hat,
And Called it Macaroni.

Yankee Doodle, keep it up, Yankee Doodle dandy
;
Mind the music and the step, And with the girls
Be handy! "

This is my country, Snaige! Exclaimed

not know how to repress the spark of pride, with her undulating profile to my right and on the water of a dream. Snaige not respond. During the next twenty minutes remained silent. Looked abstracted landscape. We were detained at the center of the world (if the world has a heart for a refrigerator plant your base). The combination of light and the breeze were perfect at that time. Six o'clock on a bridge over the Detroit River.

barges bobbed back to the piers. And some boats just went into the lake to walk to a disheveled troops of tourists ... The photographic lens made a quick nod to capture the frames. And the afternoon perched on the buildings accommodating faces.

Towards the end of the bridge, a row of shops on our right opened on the edge of the pier. We took out there. The Chivichana glide silently on the street despite the damage that the salt should have done to the shot - I imagine at this point much more cancer than those balls with the neighborhood kids were playing angollos strain in the pleasures of the Luyano Celeste. Only later I realized this and other oddities that people persist in my memory (like the pungent odor of rotting seaweed and the occasional invasion of a sandy water in the fridge). For now all it seemed perfect, and too short to waste time with sonseras. It mattered little that the Chivichana be transformed into minivans or limos as we went along with the crowd of Hollywood Boulevard and Snaige down the window to see the spectacle of breakdancers , disjointed bones on the sidewalk as a scarecrow after a flood. The important thing is that we achieved our purpose. We were there .

This is my country, Snaige. When we finally arrived, bolus. Open your eyes. Mira. Do not miss every little show right now is walking behind the hinges of the doors that channel along the port .... You see that little bar on the corner ... ...? It looks like a Western with double doors sheets cut to the waist, to make your grand entrance to let them dancing your back, while people in the bar rotates in their seats to notice your presence ... Come bolus enters embullas do not you?

Snaige smiled sparingly. From the outside, we could hear the lively conversation that held dishes and cutlery on the tables of restaurants. The curtains betrayed the luxury (or lack thereof) in each establishment. And the fun and the shouting, the proletarian and middle-class origin of his parishioners. Merlot tops slid intoxicated by the tray carrying a hand during his first night to hear insults and have tips. In the bar, the jars were built to celebrate a spectacular touchdown in two-screen televisions. The crowd cheered, the shouting grew: - Go, Lions! Go! - Sir, do you want Another beer? - Make That two, Samuel Adams and a Budlight for my friend here! Long necks! This round is on me! No way! C'mon! - Snaige and I stopped, infected by the noise. Opening the door and let ourselves be overcome by the scent given off by the foaming beer to the bottles. All the pleasures of life are condensed into a smell, in a second. For a while I kept trying to differentiate the itch to leave the nose hairs distillation dark and clear. Mr. Guinness I won the palate and the heart by a large margin. Snaige I nodded and kept walking. Nine
Harley Davidsons
parked at the entrance of a seedy bar. Descending from the motorcycle leather jackets stood out on his shoulders that looked tattoos, snakes that coiled in spirals and Celtic signs, heads of prehistoric birds whose beaks fit in the bowels of bloody beasts, letters reproduced in a Gothic style alphabets unintelligible, and other signs of more comprehensible scripts that read I love you, mom, with a red heart pierced by a knife faces monstrous deities torn from the walls of palaces and pyramids of Amerindian tribes, threads of smoke blown and shod on the skin by burning pipes for pagan rituals ... The beer again encourage discussions of the bar. While this looks were more grim, joy, reticent, and the dialogues were full of spit and curses. The first punch of the night was cooked in the environment, while the wedging billiard balls sent beaten to death by a pit. Requiescat in pace .

... and into the opening of the city saw as a never-ending symphony. Left behind the skyscrapers of the famous Skyline Detroit leaning their shadows on the river lit. There were the Renaissance Center and the Guardian Building, the Penobscot and the Cadillac Place, then push the sky two hundred meters up, saluted this rapid martial aircraft. On the 39th floor of a tower RENC an executive of General Motors off the light from his desk before returning home. In the next office, the Chief tried to seduce his secretary invited me to a drink and a movie night. She hesitated for a moment as he waved the tickets in hand, then remembered the little offspring that awaited his return, he tried an excuse, grabbed the bag and took the elevator to his car . Vacuums came on and began eating the dust of the rugs conducted by brown hands. The night wore on As we went through the streets.

- What, bolo? You are quieter than the grave! Brutal're in, in Matria Facturanda , Say something!

Snaige smiled again. He seemed stunned by all the smells and invasion of new sensations. Sometimes your profile I walked away and returned to undulate in the distance of a memory ( felt the chill of a large fish on one side grazed my ). But what we routed the two were the lights around.

The night was a motley confusion of reflections and lights. The bodies could not exist - mere ghosts wandering the void - but his reflexes and shadows were unquestionable. There were lights went out, which was lit, which blinked in front of the lights flashing, bouncing against the glass of the windows, lights that emitted a beep red to read the bar code on the store cash registers, lights that illuminated boulevards, theaters, streets, ports, malls, alleys, zoos, hotels, neon lights that stretched over the front of the shops, lights decorating the station with banners and flowers muñecones; lights were lit on the soles of the shoes , on screens of TVs, phones, clocks, in handcuffs, in the earrings in lost keys; wired and wireless lighting, electrical and solar red, green, gray, orange, purple, fluorescent, black, lights that lit up his nose to light a cigar, and other red and blue bodies burned newspapers and warmed by the river lights police flashlights factions needed before extending the offender a fine, lights blazed in the factories to melt metals and melt the plastic, light-scented soap and rubber (rather like chlorine), popcorn and cotton sugar; lights that reverberated like a kaleidoscope on my door as the cab moved along the crowded streets of Downtown. Intense light falling on the crowd in a basketball arena.

... It was the oval of the Cobo Arena. Adrian Dantley had to score a three-pointer and the Pistons won now 74 to 72 against the Lakers. Snaige and I enjoyed, in the front row of the party.

... I could not believe it. It was my dream as always: see first hand the Pistons facing any big team in the NBA. did not think I could ever do - I said while smacking the ball smashed against the ground led by Magic Johnson along the field. The crowds cheered from the stands. Shouted Defense! Defense! Pistons came back fast to make their defensive marking. A player came so close to me that he escaped from his armpit sweat splashed me the door like a gust of salt. The Magic Johnson made a long pass and almost perfect (in the home TV slow motion better spell out the parable that made the ball from hand to hand), the attacker of the Lakers opened his eyes and mouth as a cannibal shaved to catching the ball in the air and beat the defense with the elbow (The referee did not see the need! What horror! Referee Texas, outside !!!); then there was a screen, a couple of good fakes, half twist that mocked two defenders, a leap, a dunk (Dunk ! ) and the game was tied 95 to 95.

The uproar was deafening. The guy sitting beside me, amid the excitement, I opened the door and pulled out a can of diet coke . The metallic sound of uncorking is echoed throughout the land. The director of The Pistons had called for a technical time to reconsider the strategy of play, the audience took recess to be filled drinks, and entertaining hands and teeth. The queues and pepsi coca colas were dispensed by the gallon, the parchment were 64 ounces half pound burgers, and pepperoni pizza were flying discs that families and friends disarmed and swallowed up in the air before the finished tray by resting on the arm of a seat. Mozzarella cheese running down their chins and pepperoni and red pepper smeared noses and some fronts. The game continued.

... dribbling, dribbling, dribbling, passing, dribbling, jumping, display, penetration, pistons, lakers, dribbling, jumping, 102 to 105, hype, more coke, more pizza, more pepsi, more baskets! Go Pistons! The human wave angry with the development of the game to get out of their chairs threw my raft on the shore. The murmur of the night grew on my head the image of Snaige was undulating, and the cries of the public now as I came through a funnel. The face of the guy to my right was stretched and distorted to take the form of an S . Pistons no longer faced the Lakers, but the Boston Celtics and the public had adorned the head with wigs of green algae and marine hermit crabs to encourage play. Go Celtics! - Snaige shouted. The bolus finally opened his mouth. Had remained silent since docked in Michigan (Detroit) and our rafts were no longer to become Chivichana limousines, out of the water. The large oval stadium soon as a tray lean on the shoulder of a drunken waiter put our jars of Guinness at the height of the lights that illuminated the field. The other half of the oval arena was plunged into the center court while the players ran the ball driving and pursued by an army of crabs. Michael Jordan nailed the last basket of the day. The game ended. The Chicago Bulls won by three points. The crowd dispersed. The stadium lights went out. The night was extended from north to south like an old circus tent. And a sandy water poisoned wine bar again with their dirty wind and surf intermittently.

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IV

What came after was not like in the movies. No. In the movies there is a similar scene but with some differences in the script and the script is crucial. (It should be considered, a number of questions of editing and sound design and subtle lighting effects, but the time now does not give us supply) Say, in short, someone is falling from a fourteen storey building. It's a girl of 16 or 17 who has the face of film actress. He wears a plaid skirt and knee-neck embroidered blouse is triangulated around a crucifix. A thin strand of hair falls over his forehead and tickles the tip of the nose. The girl blows half of the mouth and keep walking, with arms cross for the wing of fourteen storeys. (The scene must arouse in the viewer a sense of vertigo moderate).

Their destination is the sidewalk. We know. Is subtly evident. Although she takes pains to delude and deceive. When it reaches every corner of the roof his feet draw a diagonal to avoid a vacuum, to find support in the next tile. Palpa vacuum, but it sinks sandals. Not decided. Childish flirting with death. Him about his lips, but no kisses. He is content to breathe your breath loaded, a few inches from his face. We do not understand what goes on in the heads of the young. We know their plan. (Obviously, as I said). But do not know what motivates her to perform the act. (We went to the movies with the movie already started and we made signs to usher us to sit quietly and we did as soon as possible. A fat man protested when he had to curl my knees to make way for a refrigerator). We do not understand. And it matters little after two or three movements of the camera. On the movie screen the girl's face is huge. Inside the eye roll, 24 frames per second, the final scenes. The cameraman did not even need to emphasize it.

In an oversight, she slips and falls with both arms hanging from the eaves. His hands lose strength rapidly. We are not her, but be no need to feel that their battalions were weak and give way, the bones of his fingers, having to bear the full weight of the body, are soft like jelly. A hand loses grip and the heroine (which this category has risen and the imminence of death in our hearts) remains one shoulder pendulum. (There is a gritico in the room at this moment). A bird comes to rest on the wall of the roof. The young leads the eye down and intuitively calculates the distance between your body on the sidewalk, and a half seconds of freefall.

death to face it up then. The look, the smells, he slips through a hole in the nose like a horrible bug. It spreads like a fog the brain. The girl, now thinks he has seen, not more. All suicidal thoughts evaporate into the act and all the energies that applied just before the idea of \u200b\u200bdying is transmuted into impulses of survival. Heroin swings and try to grab his arm forward to release it. Their efforts futile. Just get that hand is still clutching the building is going slowly slipping. The fired cement fingers one by one (pinky, index, ring), as removing the chord just click on the funeral of a church organ. The body prepares to fall. The hand is released. The audience jump in their seats. Mothers will cover their faces to their children not see the scene that follows, to miss the exact moment that another stout hairy hand and wrist down from heaven to grab her arm and save it from involuntary suicide. The hairy boy was the eighth floor neighbor, who had spied on the girl since she left the bathroom naked, until he climbed on the roof with checkered sayIt, sandals and embroidered blouse.

This is, generally, this scene in the film. In many cases, introduce some changes (the bird perches on the wall of the roof, for example), but the essence is always the same: a hand that rescues the other hand at the right time of the fall. This was not

what happened that night when Snaige sank into the water finally. His raft suddenly collapsed and the tangle of seaweed, fish, and metals that had become broke down as the anchor of a sailboat. I guess I tried to extend an arm and he instinctively react by imagining that tended me yours. The absence of two hands would link, in a ghostly, in a vacuum. I would help him climb on my raft (ie, the rescue) and would not see the time when its roof was saying goodbye to me, falling into the depths of the bay, without hurry or remedies, escorted by a procession of fish and undulating motion of a brunette.

From the bottom, Snaige last time I looked with that face staring captive and that are so characteristic of Russian refrigerators: sparkles more or less opaque or bright light on the surface of a square. As he descended, the sea began to creak. It seemed that there was an underwater earthquake. There was a terrible roar, like an avalanche of snow and crystals. Or a pack of icebergs hitting the ground. El Morro lighthouse shook himself from the ground. With the din, one of the lights came down and shattered on impact against the rocks. An officer of La Cabaña observed when marking your watch to see that the ceremony had been shot been completed two hours earlier. The eye of the lighthouse continued to tumble with a light under Sections of the night.

Without understanding what was happening yet, I felt that any moment I would faint. Was experiencing a serious voltage drop. I noticed when checking batteries. Were red and about to burst. Snaige was still connected to them and for some reason I was eating at full speed.

bolus seems that the world wanted to say goodbye with a final show of its cooling capacity. On his way to the bottom, turned the thermostat up and tried to freeze the waters of the ocean. When the last water molecule cracked your skin to become solid, the sea in front of the bay was turned into a huge park in winter. Some waves were trapped in a gesture of rage. And the fish behind the glass, looked trim plastic or plaster, exposed in a showcase of Apple Gómez.

Chevrolet batteries were almost empty. Before losing consciousness, the last images I retained my body was sliding down an icy plain, North.

...

The top piece is entitled "A sacred fallen in the line of duty" and was presented by Vicente Rodríguez Bonachea in refrigerators Expo "Instructions."

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III

The raid lasted all night. Helicopters dropped like flies on rafts and fishing boats and arrested anyone who they seem suspicious. Those who did not seem suspects were also arrested and imprisoned, for the leaders of the operation, after much deliberation and consume at least two packs of cigarettes, concluded that this lack of "suspicion" was itself somewhat suspicious ( "sospechosísima" - exclaimed the Colonel gravely Valeverde striking with the pointer over a map of the city), and were unwilling to let a group of criminals from escaping from the hands of revolutionary justice and come to the Keys South Floridians lack of error estimates or a military strategy .

The Patan and Coast Guard boats moored breakwaters steadily in Cojimar and Regla and detainees spat overboard. Thus were mounted on trucks and taken to detention centers for questioning. Nick was dinner that night. The current Penal Code established penalties of up to three years for "illegal attempt to leave the country." Horned and beaten was the sign that the State hung from the shoulders of anyone who was caught in the attempt. Very few books.

During interrogation the accused found it particularly difficult to prove his innocence. The greatest difficulty lay in the subtle difference that existed between a vessel intended for bass fishing or needle and another whose purpose was to navigate the murky currents of the Gulf. The truth is that Cuban boat people not put their hand, constantly embarrassing to the authorities with the idea that any device that would float (or likely to make it float) could be employed for this company: from the roof of a bus, going for water tanks one roof, or a frame of bamboo, to those famous camionautas that crossed the Strait with the lights on and honking - say that to scare away the sharks - the most glorious afternoon no doubt.

Did anyone throw the sea into a refrigerator? He wondered more than one guard when confronted with our rafts. But as they did not see anyone inside the boat left us floating adrift.

With all Jelengue, Snaige and I went along at the pace we would like. In fact, we were back slowly toward the coast. The waves that rose boats and helicopters with patrols kept us trapped inside the bay. It seemed impossible to go beyond the bottleneck of that pocket of land that God had carved on the north side of town for the habaneros and your visitors will fill gradually, with our filth, our tar and old urine.

Snaige The mishaps began to be much more severe. Once the sea licked the shit PLASTON that hung from the door, returned to haunt him molluscs. A tarpon of at least twenty pounds, tired of swimming and wanting a nap, sat in the water of one of its drawers. Several crabs climbed up the freezer to slide down the slopes of the ice. A brunette ball on its roof, and yawned. After twenty minutes of siege ocean, carrying a crew Snaige much heavier than their raft could hold. The bolus was going down. His Chivichana sank. The sea from her womb claimed gloomy.

Then we remember Flipper and Bud, the dog Fury and television programming that summer. Snaige delirious and was beginning to become a paradise with its recent past on the mainland. I blamed myself for having coaxed the project to leave the paradise of the Great Lord of the metals would have given him to eat his younger and likely to pass in peace holy venerable old age. In her delirium, called his dark corner in the kitchen of the Casanovas "the Luyanó Celeste", "White Udder's homeland." I tried to give new impetus, as he thought of a device to lighten the weight of your boat.