El Divino poles running waves and finished off their trip to resources when they returned home. The last business that had happened, after watching a brunette do the same on the streets of Santiago, was to offer pictures of people selling himself as the son of God. Two of his best friends were recruited as Adoration, and followed in the streets near Seventh and Race Caracas. Bookmarks provided with the image of the Divine prayers and arranging photos sold to the son and messenger, who took to the House of customers in a corner, considering the position of the sun. A
Marcelo presented it before leaving as a group to the enjoyment. "The Divine knows your country," said the hostess, Hilda, the girl he had met the previous evening from reporters expected to finish the concert in Parque Simón Bolívar to interview the singer of Pestilence, and that was invited to spend a night in his small bachelor apartment on the Plaza del Chorro in La Candelaria.
"I was in the north and the city of the Dirt" he says earnestly, while what happens remainder of the cigarette to her adorer, who with his eyes concentrated, sustained and leads. El Divino has been changed to white robe through the streets of Bogota and now wears a T-shirt from Chicama Beach. Right hand holds a bottle of wine. "I hope you like the sauce," says he, "because the place where we go is the best place to dance the entire city." Marcelo agree, share your smile and look askance at one of the Adoration, which was also stripped of the gauzy dress in the arrival and sports a low-cut shirt.
walk all among the wet cobblestones of the narrow streets of the neighborhood, down to the heart of the city, to the junction noisy where a modest wooden door and a green light invites them. "This is enjoyment, dance now" seem to say all, while the first beers to get their hands because they know that traveling with no money and no need to ask anything. El Divino let him dance with Adoration and make a neck Sanguchito the daring. Slowly fills up early with a dance that old sweat and breathe New York, when Ruben Blades reached Pleasure with touches of magical music and Lavoe opens the last page of the newspaper, some years in the 70s. Hilda
Her friend mentioned him a note about music in Medellín, trends in heavy metal scene have appropriated Bogota. Nothing of that influence is in this last bastion of old world flavor, no one thinks of black shirts and sweat angry when you move your hips to the rhythm of Gran Combo. It happens the night teenager tired metaphors become adults and beard kind of Divine embraces of friendship and provides all the necessary beer, that won at the point of walking by the Seventh-souvenirs and photos. Close
Pleasure because there are certain rules governing clubs to shut up soon, and the group seems to most modern quarters in a building elevator and new windows within a room in a basement where other alternative bands that pay their homage to rock on a tiny stage and off wear a Colombian flag in the morning in secret. Very tight, very young, the Divine is one more than he enjoyed the concert sitting cross-legged on the floor of the department.
troops were marching from other sides by streets that Marcelo will never know the names. Chases one of the friends that provides home on El Chorro and she offers a story drawn from his childhood in Villavicencio, where the happy childhood and the ravages of war are mistaken you had to ruin your stomach. Beside, the Divine Adoration up between the two and discusses the simplicity of the world in a monologue that they seem to worship. Marcelo keeps track of women of the prairie and found the way to his room where he takes only what is necessary and the tips of her breasts between his fingers. Then she asks him to leave because his friend is going to come from another party and sleep together, so Marcelo is lost almost completely dark in a room where too many people sleeping on the floor and curls up in a blank space.
In the middle of the night, feels that someone is protecting them from cold. Opening his eyes, you need to view the Divine, which has fallen from the couch to cover with a blanket. "Sleep well," he says. And Marcelo always remains the clear prophetic voice of the messenger. Sunrise
soon in those corners and light forces him to stand. Everyone sleeps, he does not. Marcelo walks on fetuses, hedgehogs, pajamas, rags thrown in alcohol, women qu clamor for attention, the little men. Melts by the door and up to the roof by the demure steps of the building. A neighbor down the stairs early riser with a pan full of clothes and not even bother to look. Maybe he hates.
When the city looks on in silence, her friend Hilda appears on the stairs and moves from clotheslines to stay by his side, observing a patient city, beautifully tired.
She offers him a cigarette. Hilda Marcelo let it on, check again the roofs of the city. Do not know what to say, so keep watching and what fills it.
