CORRUPT MEMORIES

This text is nothing more than a creative exercise, with no other pretensions than to give free rein to an impulse. I am fully aware of its inconsistencies, its narrative brevity, and that, probably, some passages may be unnecessarily explicit. Although the text is under review, I prefer to share it. Why not? What does it matter if it doesn't bring any material benefits? If you feel the urge to express yourself, even in an unconventional way, it just doesn't matter. This will be, at least, your shelter. And even if you find just a bunch of people on the other side, it will have been worth it.

It's like when your mind wakes up before your body, a slow and agonizing transition between sleep and wakefulness. Some of us drag that heavy feeling throughout our lives, drowning in the seconds that stretch out before us like an unpleasant routine. You assume your own inability to move, as if the weight of the universe has collapsed onto you, and the world outside seems soft and fruitful, while inside is only suffocation and dullness. Your limbs remain insensitive, but a tingling sensation spreads throughout your body, and a constant buzzing fills your head. Sometimes, it even feels like you hear a long, high-pitched wail that fades into silence. As oxygen seeps into your lungs, the sensation widens like something huge and alive is dozing inside you. You try to open your eyes, but they seem to be sewn shut. The tingling begins to subside as the frequency of the buzzing increases, and the fluctuation in blood pressure evens out. You feel a sense of relief, as the sound becomes clearer and you hear a murmur that eventually turns into a familiar whisper. Your hair stands on end, and your skin becomes grainy as you recognize the sound of your mother's voice.

"Has my king awoken yet? Do you want to know something?" Her urgent tone reverberates in the living room before she quickly exits, leaving you feeling restless and grasping the bars of your crib. Your mother's constant chatter provides a sense of comfort amidst the chaos of the household. She talks about everything from the weather to the lack of baby food, and how she must buy you clothes since there is no one to give you any toys. Her fluid and musical monologue echoes through the house, with the sound of her hurried footsteps adding to the cacophony. But suddenly, her voice disappears, replaced by an unfamiliar male voice coming from the kitchen. You strain your senses, trying to locate her but finding nothing. The thought of getting out of the crib and running into her arms is tempting, but the icy ground beneath your feet paralyzes you with fear. You sense that something strange is in the air, even though everything in the living room remains in its place. The curtains are drawn, the light is muted, and the thick purple carpet and small bookshelf remain untouched, yet your home feels unfamiliar on this cold morning.

The sound of voices echoes through the spacious foyer, growing louder as they approach. Peering through the bars of your crib, you catch a glimpse of a man's back as he leans against the doorframe. Their words intertwine, rising and falling in tone until they end in a whispered goodbye, followed by the slam of a door. A moment later, your mother returns with misty eyes and a large package wrapped in cellophane.

"Come, darling," she says, scooping you up in her arms. "Let's see what they've brought you."

Together, you climb the stairs to the upper floor, leaving behind the drab emptiness of the first floor. The hallway is adorned with a plethora of lovingly framed family photographs arranged in a calculatedly disordered harmony. The wallpaper, a canvas of oil flowers and birds, lends the space a cozy, welcoming feel.

Your bedroom is spacious and warm, with a small bed at its center, two refined armchairs in each corner, and a large closet and dressing table completing the furniture. The huge window is left bare, letting in the toasty light that floods the room and the fluttering butterfly trying to find its way out. It's the coziest place you could ever imagine.