Fuente
My name is Esthela or Franchesca, it doesn't matter. The important thing is to tell what happened. Being early in the morning at the train station to Palermo, something happened to me that is at least ridiculous or unlikely. It was an old train station with an obnoxious post office attached. I was drinking coffee in a pink or green thermos (I can't remember). At that time my memory was not this soft and atrocious chaos.
After I finished my coffee, I felt a tremor that almost destroyed the post office, I thought (or so I think) that one of the trains was approaching, with its heavy gait of a tame beast and its screeching of iron and rust. They were very common about ten times a day. But strangely enough, none of them came.
But the sensation after thirty seconds was different, I could feel a heavy breathing and a smell of honeysuckles that I had never experienced before. I could feel an electrifying current paralyzing each vertebra, each hair of my body already flaccid, by the years, by the absence of tenderness. For the dreamed children and for the unlived days I might not have anymore. It was like being in a movie theater in front of an old projector, showing mutilated photographs of my past, it was hateful to experience the force that minimized me and I could not even understand, but there it was, against all odds and every known law. It was the humidity and the effort of that breathing as if brought from another world that made it impossible for me to move any muscle. To utter some unintelligible sound and understand how tiny the human being is, how helpless we are.
Among the small fog that had just been created by the fusion of millions of drops of water rising to the sky (or so I understood) I could see a herd of dinosaurs filling all the spaces of the station, invading the interstices, the green, the gray, the blue, a whole liquefaction of known colors and new shades until somehow I stopped being an almost imperceptible stain when they began to move. Out of some kind of temporal fracture or parallel space they inhabited. But the force, which I could only intuit did not appear was behind the fog, each footstep made the ground shudder. Shattering solid things that twisted with sounds of instant death.
I was able to escape to the booth where they communicated with the trains and in a last effort, I shouted loudly into the microphone. So that all the trains would stop at once, outside a bunch of teeth were waiting for me for sure, ready to hunt me down and kill me.
