Istanbul Literary Review - January 2009 Edition (#13)
Istanbul Literary Review - January 2009 Edition (#13)
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At The Count of Ten
by
Luis Benitez

He was blind since he was born, irascible and evil talking. Gossip liking, he abused of the privilege of a very fine ear and of the piety that he generated on his surroundings like the foamy soap.

She was blind since she was fifteen due to blow on the head given by a close relative.

Now they were about fifty: they were not married, but as they were blind (as they were talking about themselves), the quarter did not notice that.

During almost a decade, I, that I see, observed them walking through the big avenue taken from the arm, marking the marital pace with their exploratory which cans.

One day the blind lady offered me candies (I was a kid) and in the middle of the box, as a kind of crone, there was a big cockroach, black and dead. I swallowed the candy that was very far away, swallowing my disgust and every word: the treatment with blind people obliges us compulsively not to see certain things, neither cockroaches nor concubinage.

Another day the news came: the little blind lady had escaped with a pal from the bookbinding workshop where she was employed, punctually and restlessly. Before proceeding to the escape, she had sold some jewelry she still had and declared to the neighborhood ( to a selected group, of course), that she abandoned the blind man for impotent. The devastated man, interrogated with diplomacy to these respects, shouted:

“Yes, I am impotent for about seven years, so what ?”

The prince charming of the little blind lady had normal vision.

They went to a pension, probably planning a fantasy in bed for taking away the blind of the flat, the only inheritance of her mother. When the property was mortgaged, the careful abandoned party was eager to save it. The papers who save that act, up from the signature itself landed in his careful pocket. I saw the abandoned one prowling around through the great avenue, with a half smile in his bitter mouth and the hand in that pocket.

The lady hero returned three months later, the summer was over.

The sobs and the beats were heard the whole night, but he were also deprived of hearing them because of their blindness. They were seen together again through the great avenue with their two exact can like metronomes.

She has a broken nose, without cartilage, like a boxer that is definitely retired.

Istanbul Literary Review - January 2009 Edition (#13)
Luis Benitez
Luis Benitez
Argentina
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Istanbul Literary Review - January 2009 Edition (#13)