In relation with an accident by Diango Hernández
During a dark winter evening – that I can’t precisely remember- when I was about to give up looking desperately for my wallet, I bumped into a wet cardboard box, I opened it and automatically closed it and I immediately left the place jumping from one street lamp shadow to the other and turning around every minute. My coat floating, my hair drawing small night shadows and my excited snickers took me home. The box was now on top of my kitchen table waiting to be open. But once opened the box will lose all its mystery, it will reveal the ‘inside’ and its content. The excitement produced by the box one hour ago is already vanished but what still remains is my desire to see again what it is inside.
Slowly while smoking a cigarette I opened the box -and if I would have seen myself doing it, I would have compared myself with a surgeon while cutting meticulously a body-. The box revealed again its content and my body again strongly reacted irritating all my senses. But now I was at home, inside another bigger box and I felt protected. If I would tell you what I found that night inside of that box you won’t believe it anyway, its content was too precious and it’s still too scary to be told.