TALES THAT ARE NOT TALES

The rebellion of the animus

The indescribable feeling of fullness that generates around the city of Buenos Aires on a Sunday early in the morning leads us to believe that this city has an angel that both protects the hides during the maelstrom of the day and only takes away the veil by nights. It is why only a privileged few night owls really know. Not only its architecture, a mix of modernity and the past, which makes it so unique but there is also something in the environment, something that breathes, feels, we hypnotize stopping time and downplaying the windows that are transformed into containers report objects. The old soldier knew very well, so he decided that Sunday morning, sunny and warm, very early, were barely six, walking the streets that were closed to the weekdays. Since leaving public life, he preferred not to make big appearances. He said it was not mingled with people unable to understand the big decisions made by statesmen and that judge the distance reviewing this as if it were a football match; inside, he felt that he could not be around people and go unnoticed or be booed as some of his colleagues.

Set its route starting from the San Martin Plaza, Florida Street would take to reach the Avenida de Mayo (1), that street would go to his beloved De Mayo Plaza sweet memories, and many others brought him. That was how he began his walk, relaxed, ready to enjoy all that the city gave away to him.

Old town plaza sported special that Sunday morning; empty and silent allowed the filtration sun rays through the foliage of the mature trees that still inhabit. This contrasted with the landscape around it: towering skyscrapers to the river, pretending to be Miami behind him the majestic building of the San Martin Palace, headquarters of the Foreign Ministry, twinned with the old buildings in Europe.

He looked toward the river the clearing where trees were cut down; at this location, a concrete monument stands as a commemorative stone for those killed in the 1982 Malvinas's(2) battle.

A Florida Street taking clearly saw that the city bore the marks of neglect he uttered those responsible for their maintenance; They put the deserted streets bare clocks that did not work or marking a different time to the real, garbage not collected, broken tiles. Despite this, the domes of the old buildings, its sculpted fronts, steel, and glass drove stop new eyes in every detail; there needed to be people if they wanted to enjoy all this. "It's risky to go with the look at the top of passersby on the street," the old soldier thought as he stopped Cordoba avenues corner to observe Navy social activity's headquarters building. His eyes and a slight smile brightened it crossed his face during the moments that managed to bring his memory the festivities with his comrades of the other force had enjoyed long ago; he could not remember how many years had not visited him, he was so far apart lately something of his fellow army friends and their other weapons. He continued his march plunged full satisfaction. He regretted that the Pacific Gallery was closed, he could have bought a gift for his wife and see how it had been remodeled. He was amazed to see so many new buildings, banks, hamburgers, huge disquerías where audio and video equipment were displayed that were not in the country the last time he walked this street. The city showed the changes of recent years, just about ten: democracy, economic policy, that press freedom was not gagged force because the culture before censured; But it was not only that, there was something else that was present in the air and looked at the buildings, the windows, something that made him feel stranger to the place, only the De Mayo Plaza presented itself as a refuge. Everything could change, but the Plaza could not, there was something that made it timeless, that preserved it from the changes that the rest of the country suffered.

When he reached the Diagonal Norte Avenue was tempted to look to your left and look at it from that angle, but the soldiers did not alter their battle plans of mere curiosity, so I continued road to De Mayo Avenue. After crossing Rivadavia Avenue, he began to feel the temperature down, increasing as he advanced. The sky began to lower, and the air was covered in a haze weak. The strange change in climate doesn't stop him, he continued his way.

When he arriving De Mayo Avenue, the fog became very thick, so much turning towards the river it was not possible to clearly observe Casa Rosada; the temperature had dropped sharply, and the humidity in the environment made the cold quite unbearable, but the old soldier did not care, he did not suffer it; his years of military training had prepared him to resist it, although he had never felt a cold as intense as this and began to shiver

Not only the weather had turned strange, but the silence of the city was altered, a peculiar sound arose, as a kind of like the murmur of the wind, but there was no wind; as he approached the increasing murmur Square. He circled the building of the Administration and started across the street, but although it was less than fifty meters could not see well, the fog was very thick. When he reached the middle of the road that separated him from his fate, he saw the square completely covered with mutilated bodies, shattered, blood everywhere faces disfigured by the pain of agony continues, a death that never comes. The cries of these people were the murmur heard in the distance. He was frightened, and, contrary to the courage he believed he had, he tried to run to the Nueve de Julio Avenue. Was useless, a strange force dragged him toward the dying. And among them he could see in his eyes that just asking compassion for their suffering, was not young twenties dressed in uniforms of the Army; their skins were purple from the cold, some were mutilated in a horrific, others had gunshot wounds as if they had endured multiple shots; in the air, you could feel the smell of burning flesh by gunpowder. The old man began to feel nauseous, wanted to flee, but superior force dragged him from the deadly. He saw his pleading eyes were fixed only on him; He began to feel a deep fear. On the streets leading to the square, the people started to arrive, all wept and stretched their arms as if to touch the dying, but an invisible barrier prevented them; The picture was frightening. Women tugged at his hair in despair of not achieving the killing, men kneeling on the streets and sidewalks, beat them with their fists on the floor to vent their impotence, young and small struggled to make through that kind of wall He prevented from continuing the road. He is dying to notice him turned their faces and their eyes toward them as if looking for a loved one. The poor old man was in the middle of this scene, trembling, with fear and cold, paralyzed without escaping power. Plaza at his feet had changed; although surrounded the Casa Rosada, the Banco de la Nación (3), the Cathedral, the Cabildo (4), and the rest of the buildings usual was not the Pirámide de Mayo(5) was now a rocky desert with some weeds that covered, was not flat but stepped as a plateau, seemed a coastal landscape of the Sud Atlantic Sur. Repentinamente, one of the youths he reached out and caught the leg of the elderly, the old man started. Young, dismissively, fixed his eyes on the man with the greatest pleading ever heard asked:

- Why?

The old man could not help seeing that the young man was missing a leg, and the other was destroyed entirely.

He was looking this, when the faces of everyone around him, in what had once been the Plaza, such as those in the surrounding streets, turned to him. The boy still holding his leg repeated his question, and all joined his. In the air, a single sound, like a litany. That did not stop the tone of pain and supplication, at the same time, it was only heard only: why?

It was not a cry which enveloped the place, but an unbearable, accompanied by continuous complaint pleading looks to end the suffering that tormented her, imploring the answer to that brief question, as if that response depended on his peace. The old man's heart was beating speed was drowning, breathing air and brought him more smell of gunpowder and burned flesh, and his ears were unable to shake the litany wailed present, while the cold and damp punishing your body until you feel numb hands and feet. The dying bodies of the young men began to crawl towards him while still looking at him, as they got closer, they clung to his body and pulled him to the floor. The heart of the old man seemed about to burst by the speed at which throbbed, her eyes filled with tears, her face contorted in fear. Only managed to issue a strange groan was heard horror as:

- No!

(1)Buenos Aires avenue

(2)Those islands are Falkand for the United Kingdom.

(3) Argentina's National Bank

(4) Historic Building

(5) Emancipation'Pyramid