028 We walk up Freak Street, where Peanuts used to trade carpets for Afghan hash. “It was full of chancers, very clever merchants.” Today the street is full of bubble tea shops, Halal restaurants, guesthouses and hotels, where many people dressed in shiny robes walk leisurely tiptoeing the cracks that open the ground. Suman smiles, points ahead, and his eyes mirror the flight of the pigeons at the roof of the temples of the World Heritage Sites of Durbar Square. I look at him and I realise that he looks like Paul Newman. “I’m not the hustler: you are. You are ready to fly. Go.” I gather my bearings and walk back to the guesthouse and avoid the deluge. The Saddest American There is a garden with massive apricot trees, a few tables, and a 70s looking bar. Before I make my way upstairs, I see Alfred sitting at the counter. He waves and asks if I want to join him and his friend. “I don’t drink anymore.” He invites me to a sparkling water. “Don’t choke and spit bubbles though: it’s what every local does to me.” “Fire?” I ask. “What?” “They spit fire at you?” “No. Just racist spit.” I thought all the guests were Gods here. He sadly smiles; there is no innocence in his eyes, just fear. I wonder about his friend. His drink is untouched. Alfred asks me what I do. I say “writing assignment.” He says he also writes. Flames & Blizzard Mallory was a member of the British Alpine Club, the most fearless and fit of them all. After the war, he wanted to crown the ultimate heaven; summit he had longed for all his life. Most members of the expedition had dodged the shelling and the flamethrowers while witnessing the evisceration of the brightest minds of their generation —for only to find eternity under a blizzard on the peak of the Earth. Jim Bolaño’s memorable antihero, Jim, walks Mexico city hypnotised by a sinister fire-eater, whom must have reminded him of the VietnamWar, the ultimate reason for wandering the streets of his neighbour country, the closest to a home he ever return to. Once in Hell, you are always in Hell. Once in Heaven, you might or might not remain in a greater flameproof eternity. Peanuts loved Into the Silence. “You wouldn’t believe how brave those guys were. I was young and fit while I lived in Nepal. I still remember the corpses I saw everywhere during my wild hikes. I almost drown during one nasty monsoon. Life is a miracle.” Ruins Suman says that 2015 Earthquake destroyed a great deal of the old town. The rubble, braced buildings and bendy lampposts are still visible everywhere, dozens of hairy dogs meandering or sleeping on heaps stone or along dusty pipes. “Many people said that I’m good. I wrote something today. Wanna read?” “Always”. The first line says: “My best friend died 7 months and 7 days ago today.” Epilogue He needs to go to the toilet now. It was lovely to meet me. I’m staring at the drink of his dead friend when my phone flashes up. “Harper RUN!. Murder and Alex are coming,” shouts Peanuts. “What????” “Go to the back door and meet Rishi, he will take care of everything.” The words “Murder and Alex” crackle in my brain like a malware. I see all the faces that I have forgotten: Selby, Nora, the Nippon Zen Master, Thousand Moons, flashing like the late omen. “Run Harper, Run,” cries Peanuts. Before entering the taxi I hit my head. Before collapsing, I see a scar like a crooked question mark. Rishi grabs my hand and pulls me and the old forgotten world vanishes again. “Fuck me,” cries Murder out loud. Harper’s blood sprays Alex’s shoes and Khaled features. “What did you do, idiot?” “I can only wish I just gave him the Acquired Savant Syndrome. Have you ever heard of it, Khaled? When you wake up as genius after having suffered a severe head injury? Does it rings a ‘Borges Bell’?” Khaled tries to escape. Murder cuts him short. He unleashes all his fury. Khaled won’t ever wake up as genius or anything ever again. (TBC)… Héctor Castells is the author of Salida (2005), Sideral, Estrella Fugada (2013), and Catalonely (2022). He lives somewhere.
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