🌄 English letters 005: Chancho Culiao
From the Tokyo Series Notes
So, let me tell you about this man I met.
He told me once that he had never loved. Or that he didn’t understand what was all the fuss about it. The movies, the books, the marriages and such.
Then he said, another time, another day, that he had lied to me. That of course he had loved. That only someone who had loved would be so angry with it.
He was angry with love, he told me.
I didn’t want to ask further.
But I did anyway.
I said: what is it that makes you angry?
He screamed something in Spanish. Something like conchetumare, aweonao, sapo malparÃo, something like so. He was from Chile.
What’s not to be angry about?, he added. Once: you love. Maybe twice: you love. Then love leaves you. And you spend a lifetime dreaming about it.
I said, what’s there not to love?, then.
He punched me in the face. And that was the end.
No.
Before he left, he said something else. He told me I’d remember him.
Give it time, he said with a grin, you will remember me, chancho culiao.
The end,
p.
