Violet, Me, Them & One Heart

Miguel Angel Mendaro

© Copyright 2013 I Am Maico

www.miguelangelmendaro.com

For you.

1 If I said that I was born on October 9 , 1854; I will probably draw th

myself in black and white.

Imagine then if I said that I am not yet born, that it will happen on the 47 th of October of the year 1,230,824. I definitely would draw myself with many, many colors. Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, trillions…

I am an artist! And I live just by and for her: Violet, my imagination. She whispers to me. When that happens I write or open my metal box of crayons. There they are all placed: thirty-six pencils sorted by colors. I have spent all night thinking about her. My one true love! I live in something like a bubble that isolates me under the sea, calm today. From down here I see the stars that have dropped to be cradled on the water’s surface. It is very beautiful and even more when she sings to me from the distance. But I can’t, I shouldn’t!

Now I state: I was born the 47th of October of the year 1,230,824, and live in 1854; specifically as my diary confirms, I arrived the 9th of October, when October had fewer days. And my duty is to observe without interfering. But then she came...

2 Give me a word and I will sow it, embrace it, and love it. Together, let’s wait until it grows. Sooner rather than later, I’m convinced that from that word will grow a small stalk. And later rather than early it will be a tree and we will obtain infinite and pure lyric. The bucolic tree foliage that rocks beneath the ocean currents! It is not fantasy. That is what happened! She gave me a word that I planted in the deep sea floor. And I did it just for her, for me, and for them. For all, For you...

3 Last night I saw a fisherman fishing. I was trying to fix a complex problem that for some reason made my bubble ship not to respond properly. My mission was finished and I had to return to my time! The fact that the fisherman whistled with true devotion and deep feeling helped me not to worry. But the question remained there: will I remain forever in this time? And if so, could I live or will I die if my bubble failed? But I remembered that I was an artist. And that I had pictures. I also love writing. I still could not give up and resign myself to die! I wanted to live by and for her. Violet… My one true lo...

I stayed a long time looking and listening. His boat rocked in a sea increasingly rough. He could not see me because my bubble can disguise itself as does a cuttlefish. But it was when I lit a fire when I really caught his attention. I felt an uncontrollable desire to go up and explain that was possible, how we had mastered the art of submarine fire. But I remembered: Do not interfere. And if he saw me, he would definitely think that I am an alien from some other world... And that’s not true!!! “Witchcraft!” He suddenly shouted. I laughed so hard that he probably heard me because he left quickly from there. But in less than an hour he returned with another fisherman. Then another and another, and a priest! I don’t know how to describe it, but their fascination (in a purple color) and their fear (in a yellow color) were mixed together in their looks of astonishment (giving an unbelievable extraordinary color). I decided to put out my fire. But suddenly my bubble ship began to rise uncontrollably. When it finally stopped it stayed static at three feet above the sea level. For more complication, the camouflage system did not respond. So I was a helpless cuttlefish that had just broken the cardinal rule: do not interfere.

4

There I was: levitating faced towards that group of villagers in a couple of boats. Nobody said anything and neither did I for caution. They seemed to have no fear at all, but hundreds of millions of billions of trillions of questions. And one of them ventured to ask. The question came out of his mouth and flew to my ears. “Who am I?” He asked. “Who am I? I am an artist!” I replied, and of course I showed them my ideas, drawings; writings ... and that I had planted a seed in the bottom of the seabed. In that way I avoided answering the question. I could not tell them in any way that I was one of them, a vulgar and “evolved” human being from the year 1,230,854 who escaped from the future to seek inspiration in the past. A future so difficult to understand ... There one was prohibited from planting words! They surprised me so much! Instead of starting a witch hunt, they looked with fascination at my work. ”He is really an artist. May I ask you what did you planted down there? What is it? What is it!” I replied: “I planted the word that she gave me! Violet! My one true love!” “Who is your beloved, if you allow such a bold question?” “She is the one that allows me to fly, sing, dream...!” “And what word did she give you! It must be a beautiful one...” “It is a gorgeous secret! ... A secret that we will flourish sooner rather than later! Oh Violet, you did it!”

5

Days passed without seeing anyone again here. My bubble ship was repaired and returned to camouflage under water after answering all their questions. Now they know that I planted a word and that I will be leaving soon. Oh, my kind and poor guests! What have I done! In the century that I am in now, they are probably hanging from their necks in the square. Probably sentenced to death for telling illogical and stupid visions filled with ridiculous ideas. What imprudence!

Why did all this happen?! I am so selfish! And all this because I wanted to see a word sprout! Now I can only mourn. She, my Violet, painted terrible pictures that I am trying not to draw ... But... What do I hear? What do I see? What!

6

Drifting glass bottles come to me with messages inside. They did not die! They tell me with joy that they have chosen to remain silent and keep my secret safe. Secretly, they share my feelings: Every night they dream with her, just like me! And they are intrigued to know what word Violet gave me to plant.

I draw the answer because I am ... an artist!

* Heart in Spanish.

The word has sprung up this morning! I could not help it: Viewing an outbreak from the earth with the word “heart” made me cry all the tears that were inside of me. She gave me the most beautiful word that a human being could ever imagine to plant. This outbreak makes my journey worth it. It really does!

7

Violet, me, them and one heart. Its branches reach up to tickle the stars. Its falling leaves produce new born galaxies. The roots touch the heart of the universe. Not even Violet could have drawn me such a great beauty. I’m laughing and crying at the same time! Hey, and I do it in black and white. With the purest and deepest joy ever imaginable.