Under Manhattan's Sky by Andrea Golden

Author:Andrea Golden.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Andrea Golden
Published: 2020-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

Peter Sanz

The light from dawn sneaks in the small openings that leave the flimsy rows of shells that hang from the entrance. The glow that floods this faraway place, that blinds my eyes making my awakening become an odyssey of nonsense. Stunned, maybe because of the wine that I drank in dinner, I barely can get up and hit the basin. On the way to it, I step on the blessed sponge that made havocs over my body, last night, and those memories made me enter a catatonic state. I blink intensively trying to take away from me this daze that envelops me while I bend to pick it up from the floor, where I stay thrown after the great runaway of Angela, and I leave her over the wooden support that rests over the handwash.

I immerse my face under the water and I whip it on both sides with violence, several times, trying to loosen up my eyes and at the same time clean my eyelashes, that are sprinkled since yesterday by uncomfortable specks of sand. It seems that I keep finding myself with unpleasant particles hidden by different zones of the body. I rub my ears well, from where I extract sand. I wash under my nails. Even some screeching particles of sand seem to move my teeth while I shake them, maybe with the only technological gadget that surely is there, my electrical battery brush. It’s strange how I wash my teeth over a basin looking to the lonely clay wall, is an environment totally different from the one we are used to: the comfort of your bathroom, your mirror in front, the sink, and the a water tap. Now is when things are missed mostly such as daily activities and routines.

My great sportive bag has been emptied and with all my clothing, that is in order over some wooden shelves, placed perfectly over them.

Is difficult to choose what to wear in this place. I don’t have anything suitable for it. If a choose some jeans, they will warm up with the sun killing my legs. If I wear a tracksuit, its nooks and crannies would accumulate pounds of sand and I would look like a walking dune. Even so, I go for the last one.

I stick my head out, waiting to find a camp sleeping, when surprisingly, they are all awake and the silent movement boils by all sites. The women go from one place to the other, holding over their heads filled water jars. The men carry heavy work tools into the Jeeps. Until the main cabin seems busy by people who want to have breakfast.

For some seconds I hesitate continuing with my plan, my first objective was to pass unnoticed and to profit from the morning loneliness, or just let it pass. But, animated, I go on without taking it out of my head being aware of the unpleasant incident that happened yesterday.

I walk with firm steps and I decide to leave things very

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