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What a perfect wine.

Finally, having searched all over the world...

I have found a man with a strong spirit...

and firm character, who, above all, has proven...

to have the most important virtue known to mankind:

Patience.

From now on, because of your fine character...

you will live in this huge, uninhabited house.

You can be certain...

you'll never lack food on your table.

At that moment, the servants brought a bread...

a true bread, and the man, thanks to patience...

was never hungry again.

How could a man who has bread on his table...

the needed salt...

meat and wine, tell a story about a hungry man?

How could Father have omitted so much...

every time he told that tale?

The most powerful ruler of the Universe...

confessed that after much searching he had just found...

a strong spirited man...

straight minded...

who above all had the rarest of human virtues:

Patience.

But before he could compliment his guest...

father didn't mention that the starving man...

with the amazing strength born of hunger...

struck violently the old man the beautiful white bearded!

Lord and master of my laurels...

you know I am your submissive slave...

I have sat at your table with you...

and shared a banquet of delicacies fit for a king...

to finish off, I've tasted your many old wines.

What else can you expect, my Lord?

The wine has gone to my head.

Therefore I am not responsible for what I just did...

when I raised my fist against my benefactor.

Impatience also has its rights!

Lmpatience also has its rights!

Lmpatience also has its rights!

I'm 17 years old.

I'm perfectly healthy...

and I'm going to start my own church on this rock.

I'm founding a church for my own needs...

a church I'll enter bare feet, naked as I came into the world.

I want to be the prophet of my own history.

Instead of gazing upwards...

I want to look with certainty to the fruits of earth.

And I can do it!

I can!

I can be the prophet of my own history!

I can do it!

I can!

I can be the prophet of my own history!

I can!

I can be the prophet of my own history! I can do it!

I can!

Maktub. (lt is written.)

Until someday...

a pestilent breath...

invades our carefully sealed boundaries...

reaching the surroundings of our home...

seeping slyly through the slits of our doors and windows...

catching an unaware member of our family...

no hand in our home...

shall clench a fist against the stricken brother.

Let each one of us look...

more candidly than ever...

upon the desperate brother.

And the care of each one shall be given to this needy brother,

each of us will inhale...

the noxious odor of this brother...

and our gentle hearts will soothe his wounds...

and our lips will tenderly kiss his tousled hair.

For love within the family is the supreme form of patience.

It is through family union...

that we may find the achievement of our principles.

And occasionally...

amongst our most immediate needs...

each of you should take the time to sit on a bench...

with one foot set squarely on the ground...

then, leaning over...

rest an elbow on one knee...

then approach the chin...

rest the head on the back of our hand...

and with gentle eyes, watch the movement of the sun...

and the rains...

and the winds...

with these same gentle eyes...

watch time's mysterious manipulation...

of the other tools it skillfully wields...

in its transformations...

never once questioning its unfathomable...

meandering designs...

just as you never question the pure flat plains...

or the winding trails drawn by the herds on the pasture.

Because the cows...

always go to the trough.

The cows always go to the watering pit.

Patience is the virtue of all virtues.

He who despairs is not wise...

he who does not submit is foolish.

I'm crazy. I'm crazy...

God...

I make no mistake in this fire...

in this passion...

in this delirium...

I should have baited her with grape seeds...

a winding trail up to the front stairs...

and held fresh pomegranates at the front windows.

I should have done a colorful flower garland.

I should've ran on the old railing at the porch...

White, white...

Her white face...

Ana!

Time...

Time...

This sometimes gentle...

sometimes cruel torturer.

Despotic devil that affects everything.

He still decides everything. Now and always.

This is why I bow down to Time in fear...

and held in suspense, I wonder:

In which exact moment does the change happen?

Which instant?

Which terrible instant marks the leap?

Which gale of wind?

Which end in space conspires, taking us to the limit?

The limit in which all vibrationless things...

cease to be just part of daily life...

to come alive in the depths of our memory.

A miracle, my God. A miracle!

Let this hand breathe like mine, oh God!

And in my lack of faith I will give You back the existence.

Allow me to live this passion!

A miracle!

And in Your name, I'll sacrifice a lamb of my father's herd.

One of the ones grazing in the bluish dawn...

a young one in the dew, a plump and agile, wild animal.

A miracle, my God!

And I'll give you life in return!

We'll drink many wines.

We'll get drunk like children.

We'll climb steep hills, bare feet...

and holding hands...

together we'll set the world on fire!

It's mine!

It's mine!

The doves in my yard were free to fly.

They took long journeys, but they always returned.

For it was nothing, but love what we had to exchange.

They flew far away and I could recognize them on distant rooftops.

Among stray birds I hoped someday...

would come to my immense garden.

It was Ana, Pedro.

It was Ana.

My hunger was for Ana.

Ana was my illness.

She was my insanity.

My breath...

my blade...

and my chill.

My breath...

my harassment...

I was the crazed brother.

I was the desperate brother.

I was the vile smelling brother.

I was the one who had the skin covered with slugs slime,

and the devil's slobber coating my skin.

Hurry up, Pedro, bring me the basin...

in which we bathed when we were little.

Bring the warm water...

the ash soap...

the scratchy sponge...

and the white fluffy towel.

Wrap me up...

wrap me up in your arms.

And dry my tormented hair...

then run your earnest hand over my neck.

You must do it, Pedro.

You...

who were the first to open our mother.

You...

gifted with the saintity pertaining to an elder brother.

It was Ana.

It was Ana.

It was Ana.

It was Ana.

Ana...

When I saw my brother covering his face with his hands...

it was clear to me that he was seeking support.

He was definitely in search of some solid, hard ground.

I could even hear his cries for help.

But when he suddenly got deeply still, it was my Father.

I also thought it was maybe an exercise of patience...

in which we'd withdraw...

to consult in darkness the elders' texts...

the noble, ancestral pages...

but in my trance, his pain didn't matter any longer...

nor did my respect for the ancient sayings.

I had to scream in furor that my madness...

had more wisdom than Father's wisdom.

That my illness suited me better than the family's good health.

That my remedies had never been mentioned in the books.

But there was another medicine. Mine.

I recognized no science except my own...

and everything was merely a matter of perspective.

Only my point of view held any meaning whatsoever.

I wanted to tell him only a satisfied person would

test the virtue of patience with other people's hunger.

I had to say all this in a verbal fit...

turning upside down the sermon table.

Destroying clamps, bolts and moorings.

Establishing a different balance, and gathering strenght...

to go higher and higher.

Tightening mainly my clandestine muscles...

rediscovering at once the beast in me,

My hooves, jaws and spurs...

letting the oily grease coat my sculptured self as I galloped...

with my feathered mane flying like feathers.

Stepping with my sagittarius paws the soft belly of the world.

Taking from this pasture a grain of wheat...

and a fat slice of wine-soaked wrath.

Me, the epileptic.

The possessed, crazed epileptic.

Me, the starved, rolling in my convulsive speech...

the soul of a flame.

A veronica cloth and a squirt of mud...

mixing the salty name of our sister into this flowing broth...

the perverted name of Ana.

Such shivering...

So many suns...

Such agony.

And Ana was there next to me.

Her presence was so necessary.

I thought how often, like two children...

we would be able to laugh riotously.

Spraying the urine of each one...

against the other's body.

Wetting ourselves as we had done just awhile ago.

And mixing together with our laborious tongues...

the saliva of each other.

Uniting our faces, wet by our eyes...

cheek to cheek.

Thinking that we were made of dirt...

and that everything in us would germinate in the other...

with the water received from the other.

The sweat of one for the sweat of the other.

My eyes were still closed...

when I touched the hay again.

Ana was gone.

I didn't know love required watching over...

that there's no such thing as everlasting peace...

nor a goblet without a trace of poison.

Ana.

Ana!

Ana, if you're here, please answer me!

Answer me!

I love you, Ana.

I love you, Ana.

Ana, listen, that's all I'm asking.

What happened between us was a miracle, dear sister.

We've discovered our bodies fit so well.

Through this union our childhood can thrive...

with no sorrow over our playthings...

no longing for our shared past.

It was a miracle to have discovered above all...

that we've become whole in our own home...

just as Father said...

happiness is only found within the family.

It was a miracle, Ana!

This arrangement of destiny shall not vanish.

I want to be happy.

Me...

the odd son...

the black sheep no one wants to confess...

the family's good-for-nothing...

but who loves our home.

And I love this land...

and I also love to work, unlike what everyone thinks.

My hands are blessed for planting.

I can hear the call of the land all the time.

I'll take perfect care of our animals...

sheltering the cows from gusty winds.

Protecting them under the trees during heavy storms.

I have a shepherd's soul, dear sister!

I'm very versatile.

There's nothing in the farm I wouldn't do.

And some day, our father...

will be lost in his thoughts, and I'll walk towards him...

sit down by his side, and very naturally...

start the conversation we never had.

That's how it'll be, and wonderful things will follow.

Help me to lose myself in this family love through your love, Ana.

I can't take another step in such darkness!

Give me your hand, Ana!

So many things are waiting for us...

A single gesture of yours will guide my attitude,

my behaviour...

my virtues...

Everything, Ana, begins with your love.

That is the seed.

Your love for me...

is the beginning of the world.

Help me, Ana.

Answer me.

Say just one word!

Nod your head slightly, it's enough...

or gently move your hair...

or the soles of your feet!

Be kind to me, Ana!

Be kind to me before it's too late, Ana.

Don't push me away, don't let me go!

I've already said, I'm tired.

I want my place at the family table.

The family can be spared of our secret.

For my part, I'd even give up the children we would have.

The old house is enough.

I want to come again and feel the intense joy of our love.

Acknowledge with me where this passion began...

If our severe Father made a temple of our home...

Mother...

with her lavish affection...

only made it the house of our damnation.

I'm thirsty, Ana. I want to drink!

This wound, this fester isn't my fault nor is this thorn...

nor the mucus flowing through from my pores!

I can't be blamed for this cursed slime...

not for this blooming sun...

this crazed flame. I can't be blamed for my delirium!

One bead on your rosary for my passion!

Two beads for my testicles!

All the beads for my eyes!

Say ten rosaries for the brother gone mad!

I'm bathed in spleen, Ana...

but I can still face your rejection.

I won't hide my smile...

if disease plagues our herds and crops.

I'll turn my back as everyone rushes around.

I'll cross my arms when they ask for help...

cover my eyes to avoid their wounds...

turn a deaf ear to their cries...

I'll shrug if the house tumbles to the ground.

I did not get what I wanted, I'll have no pity for the world!

To love and to be loved was all I asked...

but I was cast off unfairly.

I was amputated.

I'm now in the brotherhood of rejects...

of the forbidden, the unloved...

the afflicted, the anxious...

the restless, the writhing...

of the brotherhood of tainted foreheads...

bearing the ashen scar of sacred envy...

of the thirsty for equality and justice...

those who eventually end up bowing to Evil!

His whispering forces us against the current...

his harsh breath scratches our ears.

Seducting us until we reject the fragile solidity of order,

those stone buildings,

constructed on weeping shoulders!

He is the first, the only, the sovereign!

Your generous God is just a servant.

He doesn't see his own laws fuel the Eternal Fire!

I feel a new wave coming on...

I feel like piercing your saints.

Your tender angels...

I want to bite into the heart of your Christ!

I'm dying...

I'm dying.

And the thicker the shell is made,

more suffering there is under its weight.

Instead of being safe, they are consumed by fear.

They hide from everyone...

not knowing that their own eyes are withering.

They unsuspectingly become their own prisoners.

They hold the key, but they forget what it opens.

They agonize over their personal problems...

and never reach the cure, for they reject the medicine.

Wisdom is found precisely in...

not shutting oneself in a smaller world.

Being humble, a man abandons his individuality...

to become part of a greater whole...

from where he draws his greatness.

It is only through the family...

that each of us shall have a greater existence.

Only by surrendering to the family that each one shall forget...

about his own problems.

In preserving this unity...

each of us shall reap the finest rewards.

Our law...

is not to withdraw, but to join in...

not to separate...

but to unify.

Wherever one shall be,

his brother shall be there as well...

He's back.

He's in his room.

He who was lost...

has returned home.

He for whom we have wept...

has been returned to us.

Rosa!

Andr� is ill...

he needs care.

We better let him rest for a while.

Pedro is right.

Meanwhile we'll prepare his homecoming party.

Blessed be the day of your return.

Our home has been wasting away, my son...

but it is once again it is filled with joy.

I want to talk with you.

Later...

once you've rested.

For now...

take a bath, wash off the dust...

before sitting at the table your mother has set to you.

Andr�, dear brother, God bless you!

Ana ran off to the chapel right away to give thanks...!

Mother is preparing your party, we'll help her.

We're inviting everybody.

- Relatives... - Neighbours...

...friends, cousins, everyone!

But for us in the family...

the greatest joy is to have you back.

You've brought back twice the joy we'd lost.

Now, let's wash up. Mother can't see you like this.

My heart...

is acking to see your scarred face, my son.

Don't hide anything from your father, be clear.

To make yourself understood, your ideas must be organized:

Word by word.

In all order there is a seed of disorder...

in clarity, a seed of obscurity. That's why I talk like I do.

For example, I could be very clear and say...

that I had never thought of, ever, until I changed my mind...

I never thought of leaving home.

I could be clear and say as well that I never thought...

neither before nor after I left...

I'd find elsewhere what I wasn't given here.

And what weren't you given?

I wanted to have my place at the family table.

So that's why you abandoned us?

Because you didn't have a seat at the table?

I have never abandoned you, Father.

All I did, when I went away, was to spare you from watching me...

surviving on my own guts.

Yet there was always bread on our table...

and you were never forbidden to sit down with the family...

on the contrary...

all we ever wanted was to have you at our table.

I'm not talking about that kind of food.

Share only that bread may in some cases be just a cruelty...

it would only perpetuate my hunger.

What are you talking about?

- It doesn't matter. - This was a blasphemy!

No. Father this wasn't blasphemy.

I spoke like a saint for the first time in my life.

You're not well, son.

A few days work with your brothers will quieten your pride...

you'll recover your health very soon.

I'm not interested in the health you talk about.

There's always a seed of disease in it...

just as there's a strong seed of health in my illness.

Forget your whims, son.

Mixing up our ideas is pointless.

Don't try to keep me out of your problems.

I don't believe in the discussion of my problems.

I don't believe in exchanging ideas.

One plant can never see the other.

Conversation is very important, son.

Every word, indeed is a seed.

If I lived ten lives, I'd still think that talking...

is like an overripe fruit.

You're young, naturally selfish...

you think only of the fruit when planting.

The harvest isn't the greatest reward, when we sow...

we are grateful just by knowing our lives are meaningful.

There is glory in the long cultivation...

a valuable glory we hand down...

if indeed, that is the legacy we bestow.

- Father, sowing is not enough. - Of course not, son.

If others are to reap what we've sown today...

we now reap what's been sown before us.

That's life, such is the current of life.

I'm already disenchanted with the current.

Those who sow and don't reap, still reap what they did not plant.

I didn't get my share of the legacy, Father.

Why forge on?

My hands are already tied, I'm not going to bind my feet.

So, I don't care how the wind blows.

I don't see what difference it makes.

Things can move forward or backward.

I don't believe the little I understand here.

You can't expect a prisoner to serve happily in the jailer's house.

It's absurd to demand a loving embrace...

from one whose arms we've amputated.

Or worse, a person with maimed hands...

clapping his feet at his torturer.

The ugly, bowing to the beautiful becomes even uglier.

- Go on. - The poor man applauding...

the rich becomes poorer...

the small man, smaller for applauding the great...

the short man, shorter, for applauding the tall, and so on.

I can't embrace values that crush me.

It's a sad game to live in other people's skin.

The victim crying for his oppressor becomes a prisoner twice over.

What you say is very strange.

It's a strange world, Father...

which only reunites by dividing.

Built on accidents, there's no self-sustained order.

Merit is spurious, Father.

I wasn't the one who planted that seed.

What are you trying to say?

I'm not trying to say anything.

- My son, you're terribly disturbed. - No, father, I'm not disturbed.

- Who were you talking about? - No one in particular.

I was only thinking of hopeless cases...

of those who moan with reason...

of those who cry out in thirst, passion...

and solitude...

I was thinking only of them.

I want to understand you, son...

but I don't understand anymore.

I'm mixing things up as I speak, my words are rushing, but I'm lucid.

If there's chaff, there's plenty of grain in what I say.

But you're hiding your meaning.

I've said I don't discuss my problems.

It's dangerous to cross boundaries.

It takes strength to face reality...

you'd be insane to think your family hostile.

Reality isn't the same for everyone.

I only know any place is hostile, insofar as the right to live is denied.

There's no hostility in this house, you're not denied the right to live...

such thoughts are inadmissible.

- That's one point of view. - It's not a point of view!

We've lived for you children.

No one in need has lacked support in this family.

- Father, sir, you misunderstood me. - How can I understand you, Andr�?

You're stubborn, I don't understand that.

Where else could you share your problems?

Nowhere, much less here!

Our family life has been precarious!

You set impossible limits!

Father, you just said every word is a seed...

they contain life, energy...

and may even contains an explosive force,

we run great risks when we talk.

Don't interpret me with suspicion and levity!

You know you can count on our love!

The love we've learned here...

I discovered later, doesn't know what it wants.

It's now just a mere hindrance.

Love doesn't always unite, it can separate.

I could say love in the family may not be as grand as we think!

Be quiet!

Enough of your eccentricity!

I don't think I'm eccentric.

Still, it doesn't matter what I say.

Since you think I'm eccentric, who cares if I'm as plain as the doves?

If I set an olive branch on this table...

you might only see a thistle!

I'll have no provocation at this table!

Enough of your pride!

Control the snake under your tongue!

Ignore the devil murmuring in your ear!

Be humble in your manner, Andr�, answer me as a son should!

- Be clear as a man should be! - Lf I'm confusing.

Stop the confusion for once and for all!

- Lf I avoid being clearer... - Be quiet! Be quiet!

Our water doesn't flow from this fountain...

nor our light, from this darkness.

Your haughty words aren't going to destroy now.

What it's taken millenniums to build!

No one in our family will mix words as they speak...

tangle ideas, grind everything to dust.

Because if you open your eyes too wide, you'll be blinded.

Furthermore, pretentious enlightenment...

is as blinding as darkness.

Never try to set a new course to avoid the unavoidable.

Let no one confuse that which cannot be confused:

The fruit bearing tree with the barren...

nor the seed that multiplies, with dry grain!

The simplicity of our daily life, with barren thoughts.

I'm telling you to hold your tongue!

I won't have depraved wisdom contaminating our family!

It was not love, after all...

but pride...

scorn...

and selfishness...

that brought you back home...

That's enough, Yohana!

Spare our son!

I'm tired, Father.

Forgive me!

I have not returned with a proud heart...

I've come home humble and submissive.

I have no more illusions...

I know all about loneliness now...

I know about misery...

And I also know now, I should never have taken one step from home.

From now on, I want to be like my brothers:

I'm going to submit to my tasks...

I'll be out in the fields before sunrise...

and I'll stay long after sunset.

My work will be my religion...

my fatigue will be my euphoria.

I'll help maintain the family union.

From the bottom of my heart, I want to deserve...

all your love.

Your words...

have touched my heart, dear son.

The tears of joy...

erase the bitterness of your absence.

I feel a new light on this table.

For a minute I thought I had sown...

on barren land...

on gravel, or on a field of thorns.

But no.

Tomorrow we'll celebrate the once blind son...

who can now see.

So, go rest.

My son.

My dear son.

My heart.

My eyes.

My lamb.

The box...

my box.

Lula...!

Lula...!

Lula...!

- Were you asleep? - Of course.

Couldn't you tell?

I wanted to have a little chat with you.

- That's why I woke you up. - Chat about what?

- Lula, I've just come home. - So what?

I thought you'd be happy...

Why?

- I don't know, I just thought so. - Well, your thought was wrong.

If that's how you're going to talk, then we'd better just forget about it.

You shouldn't have started, good-night.

What's wrong with you, Lula?

- I just wanted to talk like friends. - What's wrong?

What's wrong, you have the nerve to ask?

I've been here waiting for you for over an hour.

A whole hour, Andr�!

Now you feed me this line about friends...

- I didn't know, Lula. - You didn't know.

Where else would I be?

I wasn't out in the pasture, with the sheep.

Okay, Lula... Good- night, then.

I'm running away, Andr�!

Tomorrow, during your party.

I can't stand this prison anymore.

I can't stand Father's sermons, the work...

nor Pedro watching over me.

I want to be in charge of my life, Andr�.

I wasn't born to live here. I don't like to work the land...

not in the sunshine, much less in the rain.

I can't stand the boring life on this filthy farm!

I said not to talk so loud!

As soon as you left, Andr�...

I spent all my time sitting up on the gate...

dreaming of the open road...

Iooking out as far as my eyes could see.

I couldn't take my mind off your adventures.

I want to see lots of cities, travel all over the world.

I want to exchange my nosebag for a backpack...

travel from place to place, like a vagabond!

I'm leaving never to return!

I'm not giving in to begging, Andr�!

I'm brave, I'm not going to fail like you!

What are you doing, Andr�?!

What are you doing, Andr�?!

Time...

time and its inflammable waters.

The tireless, wide, flowing river.

Father used to say, "Woe unto him..."

who tries to hold back its movement...

for he shall be consumed by its waters.

Woe unto him, the wizard's apprentice...

who tears open his shirt to confront it...

he will succumb to its flames.

Time and its changes...

present in everything, in every inch, in every grain...

and also present, with its seconds...

in every letter of this passionate story of mine...

transforming the dark night of my homecoming...

into a bright morning.

That was how Ana...

draped in the vulgar trinkets from my box...

caught my party like a storm...

sweeping the dance circle with her diseased body.

She controlled everyone with her violent spirit.

She knew what she was doing...

with her moist dance and soaking body.

She hurled me impetuously...

into bizarre ecstasy...

until I saw my legs to one side...

and arms to the other.

My amputated arms and legs...

struggled to regain their ancient unity.

Oh versatile devil!

No, Father!

What horror, no!

What horror, no!

Where is the family's union?

Father!

Time is the greatest treasure known to man.

Although not consumable...

time is our most valuable nourishment.

Time is immeasurable, yet it is our greatest gift...

it has neither beginning nor end.

A miser who compares his worth with his wealth is poor...

so is the man who spreads himself out over vast lands.

The only rich man is the man who has.

Learned to live piously and humbly with time...

approaching it gently, never disrupting its current...

always welcoming it wisely to receive its favors, not its wrath.

Life is essentially, held in balance by this supreme gift.

When seeking, if you know when to wait.

And how much time to give things...

you won't trip up in error.

Only the true measure of time reveals the true nature of things.

Done by (c) dCd / September 2005

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