Tyed upa

 We arrived together at Sylvia's birthday party, just added to my list of friends

 - How good that you came to my party! - She said making us enter with the ear-ear smile that characterized her

 At first glance, both the height and the affable smile of the boy who had arrived with me, impressed my sensitivity with a sincerity perceptible to the naked eye.

 -      go ! Come in. Make yourself comfortable on the sofa - Sylvia offered, and we sat together, on the sofa for two people - I'll be right back! I'm going to get some sandwiches and some sodas, disappearing for a moment.

 We look at each other.

 At the beginning, with an insurmountable distance, whose origin could only be found in that, of course, we do not know each other, and we have to know each other, to cross the barriers of fear, and those things -

 However, our eyes met, by accident.

 Then we smile at each other for a few minutes, in a shy way of greeting each other.

 That's when Sylvia returns, placing the soft drinks and sandwiches on the side table to the sofa where we sit, without taking her eye off the stereo.

 - What kind of music do you like? - Evidencing, thus, the friendly side of her character.

 - romantic! - We both answered, laughing at the coincidence.

 - Well then, dance! - I'm going to the kitchen to bring more sandwiches.

 We looked at each other, with our hands on the sandwiches and the doubt of dancing or not in our circumspect eyes - that may be said by way of passage, he was the one who naturally dominated me the most at that moment.

 - what is your name? - He cut the ice that my seriousness imposed

 - Sara - still with joy painted on our lips, for no apparent reason.

 -Fernando - imprinting the sweetness of her lips on my effectively lacking face ..

 -      do you study ? - Was the inevitable question, the one that had to be asked because there was nothing else to talk about.

 -     Yes. I'm graduating from high school this year, and I think I'm going to want to study something related to the arts.

 -      what a coincidence! I study plastic arts, I am in the second semester

 -      do not kill me ! Now you really have awakened my curiosity louse, so hurry up and tell me a little more about your experience in that area

 - Since I've known myself through people, I like to draw, paint, use watercolors.

 My first arts teacher was the first to tell me that I had to study something related, because she saw that she had the ability to do that.

 , and of course I find her fascinating - making her ecstatic eyes sparkle at every word she utters.

 Spellbound by equalities, rather than differences, we hear the bell ringing again.

 However, we did not realize that something like twenty people had arrived,

 , filling the atmosphere with joy.

 Also, I still had Fernando sitting next to me.

 -He is like my! - I thought, seeing how he moved his hands to express himself

 It was, above all, a mirror of myself - I concluded, stunned.

 - Aren't you going to dance? - Sylvia interrupted, stretching her arm so that we join the human rope that snaked dancing "la bamba", while I and Fernando could not stop speaking ill of the teachers - always so demanding, sharing the same ideas and opinions with him.

 Soon, I felt at ease, because that boy seemed to get along with me, with Picassos and Rembrandt among us.

 We used to tell jokes.

 He would show me the photos of the paintings he had painted, and to tell the truth, I found them really interesting.

 And I played them.

 We spent the whole night like this, in no rush.

 With the new day on the horizon, we said goodbye, with a telephone exchange and a kiss on the cheek.

 - good guy! - I exclaimed, continuing to ask for his phone number.

 We call each other and we meet every day.

 It was the true sound of life: that of identification with a person who does not charge you anything, on the contrary: it does you good because it matters to you, in a continuous exchange of life experiences, addicted to its simple presence to intoxicate the I dream of having him in her arms, caressing him until reaching infinite ecstasy.

 At the apex of madness, he wondered the same question:

 What is this that makes my chest burn even in the solitude of insomnia?

 There is a first time for everything ”, I said to my buttons.

 In that same instant, in which my eyebrow burned, I realized how superficial and light I had been being.

 A steel of hardness and coldness.

 He kept smiling, with all his soul, which filled every pore and every cell with a calm peace like ours.

 For me, that peace seemed to open the heavens, and make gold fall capable of making even the grass bloom, illuminating each leaf of the trees, undoing the shyness that I showed, by only being able to express myself with watercolors.

 Would that much commented love be?

 I did not know, I had never experienced it.

 - I would like to have a magic wand with all the answers. But since I have not, it is better to think of something to find out.

 To that end, I lent him my watercolors and told him to represent in an image, what love was for him.

 - Something that can define your vision of love in relation to another person.

 - Well, but you have to do the same.

 -      Yes of course ! Then we are going to compare the paintings, and see what happens.

 No sooner said than done.

 We marked the time on a wall clock hanging on the wall of the old garage of my house, where I painted and also made sculptures, which adorned the visiting room of my house and a few others.

 One hour.

 I concentrated on coloring many lines, of different colors.

 a rainbow? Well, let it be, but you have to unite two people.

 Yes.

 Perhaps, I can draw a heart on the rainbow, like the sun, radiating his love on each one of the people.

 On his side, he also reflected his feeling with many colors, lines.

 - What color do you want me to paint the heart? - He asked me, as if asking me for an authorization to love: lowering his voice until he almost couldn't make himself heard.

 - Red - he replied - if it is love, or purple if it is passion. But if you don't mind that much, paint it yellow.

 - What I think is love, burns my insides, that's why I'm going to make it red.

 - and why not purple?

 - Because I don't know what passion is. It must be something cruel.

 -      cruel ?

 -     Yes. It must completely disable the passionate.

 - It seems consistent.

 -I am not looking for coherence, I am looking for pleasure, according to the words of a poet who does not remember his name.

 - His name was Fernando.

 And we laugh, like two children in kindergarten.

 At the end of the time, we put our works-raw on the counter of the garage.

 - Show your. First, I'm ashamed.

 -      not ! than nothing ! Ladies first, that's the law and the law is enforced here.

 Either way.

 I showed him my rainbow.

 Opening his eyes in horror, he showed me his rainbow.

 -      They are equal ! - We both claim, dumbfounded.

 We leaned closer, eyes asking if we felt the same way.

 The answer, in addition to being obvious, led us down the path of understanding.

 That one, the one that enlightens you and clears up all doubts, enlarging the essence of

 And we kissed, sealing a relationship that was now concrete, with watercolors and kisses.

 - Yes, love - reopening my soul, satisfied that I have managed to identify each other with me and with another person, without any distinction, free to feel at ease with each other, without coming to depend on her to survive, without ties

 Two days later, he sent me a message:

 - I have an exhibition of my works in the capital, for two days.

 Do you want to come with me ?

 The theory now became practical.

 The truth was that if I wanted it well in the depths of my heart, of my insurgent soul in the face of the distance that life imposed on us, I was still immature in wanting to cling to someone to possess it like a wild animal that takes over its prey

 He was my prey, because I really did call memes about him.

 I needed them to make sense of my attachment, the dictator.

 And that trip could be used for that.

 But, he had never hinted at such things with me.

 And nothing else, after so much laughter and so much wasting the love that we were beginning to discover

 In one of the messages, I had sent him a photo of me, in a bikini.

 - You have a beautiful body, but you must respect it because it is the only way to exist in this world.

 I thought so.

 It was true.

 That handsome man was such a correct and respectful person that never of ever would he have tried something indecent with me.

 He was so cheerful, so kind, so smart, so - oh my God! That man drives me crazy that I don't want to stop thinking about him, and thinking like a crazy person about someone always ends up minimally in marriage - I said again with those buttons that this time I had closed a little more, because I knew that if something had to happen, it would happen in due course.

 Tolerant, I would wait - even if that wait cost her many sleepless nights, many waking dreams rolling in her wet bed from thinking about him so much, many tears shed by the anxiety that the waiting caused her.

 Upon his return, I went to wait for him at the airport.

 - Do you want to celebrate the return?

 - How do I think it should be?

 - Yes - determined to lose my virginity to him.

 - Well, but I already told you that we went to have lunch at the curator's house, with two or three ambassadors who have simply added my works and have proposed an exhibition in their environments, with invitations and we have even discussed prices, and budget and things like that .. blah blah blah

 Nothing happened if the hope of the rainbow was submerged in a single heart.

 And period.