The Diary of Lady M Page #2

was her only moral!

To look more beautiful than

Snow White, whose pale face...

only made a bunch of dwarfs

start to dream!

The dazzling light of the castle,

where the evil queen held

her splendid festives,

has led my steps, alone

and shivering through the night.

My path was destined,

I would be Lady M.

whatever would happen.

What is it?

Why are you sad now?

Me?

Nothing!

I was in my "intimate Africa."

"Intimate Africa?"

A phrase from my childhood.

For me it means:
dreaming.

In school I had a teacher,

who used to come...

stalking from behind,

pinched me and said:

"Hey, strumpet, you're dreaming."

She was right.

What?

Dreaming is the worst crime.

No,

the worst crime

is to have no "thunes".

- What means "thunes"?

- It means dough, money.

I like the way it's written.

They're talk about those

monastery builders.

Listen:

"They were slaves on earth,

to be free in heaven."

"They were kneeling

and starving here,

to get up there and sit at

the table of the Lord."

Well, but they ended up

fighting against...

the counts of this region,

who lurked on their treasures.

Meanwhile, the monks

moral got spoiled.

Oh! But then had those

who had worked so hard...

been tricked.

They weren't the same.

The decadence came later.

Everything is cyclical.

Things go up, then down,

and then they disappear.

And we now?

I think,

that it goes down.

Hopefully that's not true.

Are you praying?

When night falls, I expect

that the world is praying for me.

You want

that people pray for you?

The people not,

the things,

the sea.

Will you take me to

the Black Virgin?

The Virgin of Montserrat.

- Why do you want to see her?

- Just like that.

She's the only black virgin.

Is it far?

Near Barcelona.

Our laughter was replaced

by a certain seriousness.

I followed the dazzling

reflections from the sky,

on their way through the water

surface to the lower worlds.

Diego also seemed sense the

deeper meaning of the calm water.

Who had said "Dead water is a thick

fluid like blood"?

What are you doing?

- We'll sleep here.

As a boy I hid here once.

My parents were looking for me

for two days,

but didn't find me.

Were you a runaway?

Are you shivering?

No, it's fine.

- But I do.

We'll catch our death here.

Shall we find a hotel?

That would be scandalous...

- Why?

Listen...

Here it's less cold but I'd prefer

to spend a night in the Taj Mahal.

The Taj Mahal...

The Taj Mahal...

The builder of this dwelling

probably dreamed of the Taj Mahal.

Unbelievable.

Look at this!

Want to follow me to hell?

It's better than the Taj Mahal.

It looks romantic, but this smell...

What's that humming in the corner?

I looked, but couldn't find a

beehive nor see any insects.

I also didn't see Diego.

Where could he be?

Oh, my heart...

It felt as if I was sucked

into air holes...

like an airplane that

falls hundreds of meters.

What if Diego had seduced me

only to push me away now?

I didn't want to assume

evil intentions...

maybe he was just

like all the others?

Make promises

and then disappear.

Isn't that common practice?

What had he promised me? Nothing.

Cold sweat ran down my spine.

Actually, it was strange.

A guy who suddenly

just was there?

I had never asked him

many questions, but...

with Diego just so much

was in the dark.

This sudden trip was maybe

rather an escape.

Look, they are doing a restoration.

I'll say goodbye

and come in a moment.

He kept me bound to him...

hanging on the edge of an abyss.

He pauses during lovemaking...

like a swimmer,

with the sky above,

pauses in order to breathe,

before he continues swimming,

further,

and further.

I love you.

I love you too.

Since when did we make love?

He asked me if I could

feel him deep inside me.

I didn't answer.

A dizziness came over me,

like on a motorcycle,

that accelerates too fast.

It felt as if...

we were at the heart of a moment,

without beginning

and never ending.

Swallows chased each other

playful outside the window.

They let themselves fall like stones,

only to stop loud screaming

in the last moment,

before they took another direction,

this time towards the upper abyss.

Did you like

when men look at me?

Yes, I like it,

but I can't stand rudeness.

At the end of the day

we came to the Ebro Delta.

The geometric lines of the rice fields

reached as far as the eyes could see.

The only inhabitants of the

area appeared to be frogs.

A wet sun painted the horizon

in a yellow and purple frenzy.

A river throws itself into the sea,

like a man who dies in a woman.

"I love the delta at the bottom

of your belly", he murmured.

I'm uncertain whether it was

Diego's comment.

I already loved this area,

where Earth, Water and Air

melt together.

I felt as if my life depended on

these few centimeters of skin...

that he caressed while driving.

I had put fear and doubts

aside concerning Diego.

We seemed to drive on

solid ground as well as on water.

This is called a Fata Morgana.

He asked me to spread my legs.

The vitality of his eyes seemed

to be passed on to his mouth,

full and glorious.

His face was motionless,

like a statue.

I'd like...

to be even more naked

in front of this stone face.

Do you know that the Arabs

shave their sex?

Really?

Always?

Well, I don't know. But often.

Finally, we saw the residents.

They were not only frogs.

The alcohol was already

in the veins of the men,

who waited in the cafe for their wives,

who were in church.

That's it.

Life is sometimes complicated.

Why didn't you tell me?

- She knows it.

- But... and I?

A man who has two houses,

will loose his mind.

He who has two wives,

will loose his soul.

Then there are certainly many

who's souls are lost.

You don't choose the moment

of an encounter.

And when it happens

what should we do?

Abstain from it?

Of millions of people,

who pass by,

only 2 or 3 stop.

So you stop too.

The chances in life...

a day in Paris...

the rain, the Kismet, and you.

We walked half the night.

And you come to Barcelona.

I knew it.

Should I have sent you away?

Is she African?

Parisian. She was my model

when I worked in Paris.

What's her name?

Nuria.

And the little girl's called Billie.

It was as if my life passed

very fast in front of my eyes.

All these girls had stories

which were at the same time...

exemplary, mysterious, frightening,

criminal, sublime and touching.

Life continued

on the terrace of the caf.

All things needed were there...

a flowered blouse,

rather well filled,

jokes and laughter everywhere.

My senses seemed amplified

in order to torture me even more.

I just wanted to sleep.

And when I later...

would wake up,

I would realise

that the whole story with the photo,

the child and the woman,

just was a bad image

from a nightmare.

The sweet smell of the mud

reminds me of my childhood.

I don't care about my childhood.

At least I claim that.

What helps me hover

high above the ground...

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