Into the red hair of Beatrice

Into the red hair of Beatrice




(…)(Yellow)


“After every end, always a beginning comes to us” that was that she said to me that day. I did not want to believe that rubbish. I thought: well she thinks that, because she is in her own side of our story.

I wanted to kill myself, at least disappear for a while. I attempted so hard to be transparent (dark blue), to become into another animal, I wished to forget everything, to rewind that bloody film (transparent). Suddenly those objects came to my hands, a strange picture and a tiny key… I had never liked that kind of stuffs that does not have a real use, photography of people that we have never met, keys that do not open anything. I tried hard to throw those objects off of my life; always I have hated memories. (more transparent than before)

I was sure during that time, I was not that kind of people who live their life remembering those things that could had happened… whatever, we never know how deep we are able to come down. (blue)

There were not stars in the sky, no music came from anywhere, just it was me and my broken dreams in that place, of course in my hands were the picture and that tiny key. Always I was wishing that something special would happen in a moment like that, but not, that day passed away as normal as all those boring days in our life; so, not magical perception, nothing around me, nothing inside me, nor beautiful chorus, nor strange lights…

Thus, after a while I realized that my mistake was to have those stupid objects (more blue than before). The last time when I saw her, she was running into that forest, finally her red hair disappeared into that darkness (red), she was crying loud: “ (…) you will see it, always after every end, another beginning comes sure…” “See you soon on the other side…” (Black)

Perhaps, after all these years, finally, tomorrow I will be again there… remembering my strange story, never forgetting how that stupid picture and that tiny key that didn’t open anything changed my life. (Too white for my eyes)


The end.



Rafael Reveron-Pojan
London 2000.