ego te absolvo pecatis tui…

Once the third toll from the tower top struck he last call for prayers, the party of the four friends rose up from the armchairs in the balcony of the town hall, to walk down in a straight line formation into the main square towards the church, as just a few minutes ago, Saintfountain had been watched by one of the Kittens going past the corner of her lane into the chapel.

The elder of the two Kittens, who had stayed away trying to rearrange the chairs into the building and switch off the only 25W lamp, could spot the  regular small crowd of worshipers in black that wearing also long black veils on their heads in the Moors style, were leading their way into in such a shocking formation that it seemed to look like a black coat in the middle of the circus in the dusk.

  • did you spot her, D. Alfred ? – asked the Kitten in a flattering way to the Major.
  • who does not, D. Alfred ? replied the Major in a very cutting way.
  • “ She looks so attractive and sexy in that lovely transparent silk-like dress… so as to  be missed in her appealing incredible figure”  – was the Major reflecting to himself.
  • Most males in town would fancy the chance to…  – replied the Kitten

They had one after the other signed their faces with their index fingers just dipped] in holy water from the basin located on the right side of the main entrance, all of them intending to spot Saintfountain at the time.

A humming sound off the crowd was filling up the atmosphere, while Saintfountain was taking her time kneeling at the confessional…

“ such an obnoxious sin in town…that it is naturally understandable for  her to take  long in counting down her unbearable misconduct” – that was the  commonest way of thinking of her among the church goers as they were waiting for D. Aristophano to start the  every evening’s  Rosary.

Blushed her face red as a peach in the summer, Saintfountain stood up from her knees leaving the confession box behind to lead herself to the place she usually occupied in the intersection of the two corridors -somewhere in the middle that split the assembly in two: one for the men under the choir and the other nearer the main altar for the ladies.

  • “you are not permitted by our Lord’s commandments  to have affairs: it is  a shameful sin to Jesus‘ s love” – the priest’s piece of advice was reverberating? in her ears.
  • “ I pledge to myself to change , father”. “I promise not to again, father”.
  • “ Ego te adsolvo a peccatis tui in nomine Patris et Filii  et Spiritu Santus.”
  • Go in peace, my daughter.

God has mercy on all sinners in our community. Thus, before going on with our prayers, do I require to beg God for His forgiveness and change for good our sinful soul into His sacred home… continued Aristophanus addressing in his speech to the assembly.

Meanwhile, Dr Hermogenes, standing up leaning to the door main entrance, was unable to forget Saintfountain’ s delicacy, her  sweaty lips, the kindness she paid him, her subtle touch of her hands on his, her  transparent floppy blue pajamas that you could easily guess her demanding female flesh across the openness down the chest.

-”She is so lovely so appealing so tender to me…” – was the doctor ‘s mind filled of leud.

Once the Rosary was over, the whole assembly left the church, when…

Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis odie (I)



The game of cards was over and everybody thought that once they had their coffee, the  men would walk towards the town hall balcony that overlooked the main square round the church.  In the summer it used to be covered with a thick dust cloud of chaff’ often stirred up in whirls by the unbearable hot wind from the east. The wind, according to the villagers, came from Castuera; it was also said to be not a good town to marry people from that town. At sunset the country labourers, in white sleeveless underwear soaked in stinking sweat and black corduroy trousers, were coming into the dry dusty square from the four lanes at each corner.  With their straw woven hats in their hands you could see their brown skinny faces  burning in the summer sun rays, from which two tiny stars of eyes sparkled a lively beam of light under two dark lashes covered in ‘chaff’. Most, in canvas sandals, had bleeding feet after a long day scything large patches of wheat crops for twenty five pesetas. With hatred in their eyes they stared at the honourable men in the balcony; none of them made their living sweating from the long hours.  Some hoped the civil war could start again for the socialism to settle down and country workers to be free. No-one was sure what to have for dinner or whether they could have anything, but nobody dared to speak up or confess their intimate feelings. The Barechest, so-called according to gossipers in town as he used to walk along with no shirt to show-off in front of the ladies, was aware of the muscular figure he shaped so well in the Russian front during the Second World War. Barechest was very  popular not only for his courage during the war in Russia but also for his full dedication at work; many of the country labourers were so jealous of him that they used to nicknamed him “asshole” as he never lost a day job while some others stayed redundant, arms folded. The Fartcracker was also very popular in town for his skill in passing wind noisily whilst walking around, being the laughing-stock to the kids.  He was also a brave labourer and was very employable – He was among the others who were going past before the “peers” sitting in the town hall balcony gossiping.</div>

…la chica de Nador (IV)



Aquellas noches largas y oscuras, cuando a las estrellas las velaba un manto de nubes grises, y la luna ocultaba su resplandeciente brillo durante la fase de Luna Nueva, el ábrego mecía el velo gris que cubría el firmamento, para, a continuación, descargar una torrencial lluvia, la cual solía persistir en su monótono chisporroteo a lo largo de la noche y durante la mañana del día siguiente. Las cortinas de lluvia se precipitaban con violencia sobre el tejado de la casa de campo para, a continuación, ceder el paso a un persistente goteo que se obstinaba en asemejarse a las notas recurrentes del teclado de un piano, mientras que el rescoldo de la chimenea elevaba una cortina de tul mortecino, que se hacía trasparente al erguirse por encima del tejado y abrazar el espeso claro oscuro de los cúmulos grises, los cuales se despedían soñolientos en dirección este.
En el transcurso de la noche, dormíamos en los brazos de Orfeo, por el placer que produce saberse cobijado entre sábanas blancas de lienzo y mantas confortables de lana sobre un colchón que, con entrañable primor, tu madre había mullido a lo largo de la mañana; y la monotonía de la lluvia, que se precipitaba sobre el tejado al compás del sonoro discurrir del aguacero caído sobre los canales formados por las tejas, convirtiéndolos en rebosantes corrientes de agua en aquella lluviosa noche de noviembre, que en su contacto con la acera de piedra emitía una parsimoniosa melodía de placer monótono e inolvidable.
Para los niños, como tú y como yo, aquel tintineo de gotas de lluvia precipitándose sobre el acerado de piedra, sobre una formación de lanchas planas rebuscadas en la ladera del monte y transportadas a lomos de bestias de carga o en carruajes de ruedas de madera de cinchos de hierro…
(-¡ ría booo !, aún la resonancia de la imperativa voz del mozo, Jorge, que guiaba a las acémilas de tiro la reconocía en lo más profundo de su conciencia-)
…habían propiciado un acerado conveniente alrededor del cortijo que impediría que el agua vertida por los canales del tejado socavara el cimiento de las paredes exteriores, que, sin embargo, nadie pudo imaginarse nunca que durante la estación lluviosa iba a servir de somnífero durante la noche, como si fuera una disposición del teclado sobre un piano rústico.