Some may call me old fashioned, others perhaps more extreme, bitter, a few say that I am envious. But it is very easy to label me as outdated, bitter or envious, the reality is more complex to shut myself up in three simple words. However, careful thought, I would not know what other terms to use. So call me whatever you want, my life will remain the same, I am a construction of myself and, truth be told, I feel good, very good. Last night I checked again as she watched them dance. It was a nightclub in the city center (I will not say names because I have not received money from advertising). It is not that frequent these establishments, but this time I was invited by a friend to celebrate his departure, so that nothing do: I was surrounded by hundreds, thousands, millions of crowded and sweaty dancing bodies in convulsive movements. Fortunately, my beloved wife was with me between drinks, make fun of them and talk about things of beauty, dreams, poetry. What a delight to share the soul with another soul! The universe is infinite thought it was not, and really love a woman discovers that an enclosed living and the possibilities stretched far beyond. So what you believed was finite infinity, and the discovery of eternity it has become apparent. We laughed. Our position is privileged: we are in a kind of balcony, you only need to look down to find the chaos and frenzy of dancing bodies. It bothers me, bothers me extremely; is ugly, vulgar, rude. His skin shines, her limbs vibrate, its exhalations are solidified in the increasingly heavy air. Look at the faces, dear. They look like rubber masks, stretch and contract, are lost within their own gestures. And the eyes are lost, only see the whites, they are ghosts, ghosts in ecstasy. Men look to face challenging: "I am the male in this place, the women swoon at my dance and I give their sex. It will be a triumph for me, a man of truth. Fuck and never see you again." So many males believe be evolutionary peaks, but are just hairless apes, and, worse still, moving his body to the rhythm of that strange music. Pum, pum, pum. Legs to one side to the other arms. And looks, eyes challenging through the course of other perspectives: the lustful, the pheromones that capture crowding the place. Women like snakes move sensually haunted by the sound of a magic flute. Hips to one side to the other. Sex longing eyes. "Here I am. My body wants to be touched. Tonight will not sleep alone." New hip movements, accompanied by erotic gaze. Hands sliding across the shiny surface and sweaty. Boil. And the lights, which come from everywhere, light, go out, go on, go out ... Pum, pum, pum. All dance, are outlined, offer their flesh. Under the floor there is a gigantic monster, whose skin has many hairs human bodies seem to dance in the disco. It's kind of anemone, their limbs jelly you want with each other. My wife and I are under the sea and watched the ripples of these puddings venereal human. No, no love. They only move because the ocean current is in that direction. I propose one thing, my darling. Take the road against the current. Let us leave this world of moods and sweats, and we will continue to create our universe. Dance, dance. But just you and me. Let us round and round, revolve with infinitely. And let us love forever, away from them, away from the anemone.
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