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's Exile

Few know it, but the latest scientific findings show that there was a time in our moon a lot more civilized people us. What's more, this group of individuals living there long before it breaks out here. These people, whom we call "Selenite" (by our nomenclature that refuses to detach from the Greek), noted for some time to develop our young planet and expressed a great hope because Mother (as we call our Earth) sister developed a culture that, which both orbs cosmic revolve symbiotic harmony with theirs. Needless to say, this did not happen, although it sounds redundant, it should be mentioned that very little is actually known of these people, because what they suggest is that at the time of taking up the first man in bipedal adventure, the people of the Moon packed up all their civilization and went away, until who knows what confines of this or any other galaxy. They

few documents (found in deep craters and amazingly written in a language which, although totally different to those here, is without major problem so that scholars have defined as "semantics of the subconscious") that was the moon a very different place than it is now. Something worth mentioning is the fact that selenite, who did not appear to be biologically very different to us, had succeeded in creating an artificial atmosphere, as their means of production, unlike ours, clean breathable air exhaled . All their wastes were synthesized in a manner that would not have to wait centuries (or millennia) to biodegrade, and anything that could jeopardize the balance of his world was sent directly to the Sun In fact, the space race was created, more that curiosity about the universe, for his aversion to pollution and toxic.

The existence of these beings no longer a mystery which will soon be what we discover, but also explains much about the way it is "accelerated" the technological progress of mankind. And is that experts Selena (who are, so far-three) were among the inhabitants of the Moon who is dedicated, although the ordinance general not to approach Mother, to teach our apelike ancestors practical things that allow their survival, like fire, the wheel, and other technology primitive and harmless.

However, it believes that "strong dissatisfaction" (a term used to refer to separation and total repudiation of our species selenite) came when they saw what they had given selflessly to humanity had served for the first men exercising the most terrible instinct: burned, pillaged, creating round projectiles, did the most unthinkable things with the arts learned. Even the beautiful temples were erected for triangular receive the selenite in different parts of the world had become more absurd sacrifices and ritual disguised violence. Selenite was there when they realized that this furry being helpless and could never understand what it was like to live in harmony, and that if the selenite were helping them, they might give meaning to a word that did not exist in their language, and yet there in all human languages: the war.

And so they decided to leave because they could not afford to live with so unpredictable neighbors. The moon was empty, as if each one of its craters had not never been a hydraulic support for floating cities where they lived Selenite. And when they picked their people, their culture and atmosphere can not know how they felt, whether relief or sadness, because feelings are not easily Selenite understand our still rudimentary arts. What I made clear was that even among them there were those who had hoped that the knowledge they had made with humanity might as well be your salvation, but there were few who thought so.

And on a night where on earth the men were too busy looking down, the selenite is gone forever from the moon. But according to three experts in the field, there are indications that we are still watching. And every so often, when a lunar eclipse and the moon is a red opaque melancholy, overlook a small little camera that left installed to take a snapshot (human language is still too limited to accurately relate the term selenite) from every corner of our state and check occasionally.

you come back someday? No one can know. But as we found in 1969, the Moon remains a desert, like the rest of this corner of the universe where it seems no one wants to approach. And we are still here, using the cosmic wisdom for our earthly nonsense.

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Selenites Entering

Few know it, but this dusty place full of fantastic gadgets, anonymous people, and reports critical fabled pilgrim is not what could be considered "open access." Yes, soil referime to him as "my cachivachero", and indeed I am the only one who gets to register your drawers with the ideal of showing the odd object of here overnight, but the truth is that the very , place (or maybe the creatures that compose it) seems at times reluctant to step on it very often. Needless to say that cachivachero has no idea what a blog, and still have some dusty attic and basement even as much mysterious, as it certainly is a place that could be up or down in my own mind. What

how it is possible that the cachivachero, still in my mind, a place that resists my presence? It also has an explanation, I think it pertinent to now that I myself have found, after a desperate search. And I must begin by saying that like all stay in a house or building, the cachivachero has a gate, one of which only I have the key, and I was given when I was born, perhaps noting that I would the guardian of such futility. I repeat that the fact that you can see it does not necessarily mean that insiders, rather than watching from a window that I have made available. Anyway, continue.

cachivachero The door is so rustic and flamboyant like him, I do not know which tree comes from the wood of which was carved, because although I dare say that carob is, perhaps varnish which betrays its appearance. But that door, crusty and old, it is most important about the entrance to cachivachero, but rather a lock, although at first sight seem that of a monastery medieval, indeed is itself also a very particular gadget.

Rusty and unfriendly, the lock that opens the door cachivachero has the quality (I would say only, but I'm sure in some other dimension that is very normal thing) to change at will, getting into trouble with the key tired (and this server) every time we enter the sea of \u200b\u200bboxes that dwells within. One day, for example, can be represented by the simplicity of a traditional lock and another day this lock may have recorded a double-headed eagle that continues to laugh aloud when you enter the wrong key, and only when it turn has taken the exact shape is that the mocking bird spreads its wings and allows the door creak with his dusty melody.

And yes, the key belongs to this same line of objects that change at whim, but rather in this case should be "at will" from other objects. Once the key whispered that she was tired of obeying the follies of that lock, and if it were not for me, had long been drained out of my pocket to rest in the depths of a sewer or lift shaft, you know, those places that they like them to keys. I thanked the soul that was so faithful a key, as others have touched me very little lead from honorable adjective.

So far no big deal it may seem the case: a lock that takes many forms and a key that fits her. But you do not have pondered on the fact that it may take days, weeks or even months, before the key has been my faithful not only to analyze the mechanism of the new shape of the lock, but changed his so that its physiognomy produce the desired tingling who crave all locks and that leads to opening of a door.

In this I have spent the months that have not been free of anxiety and sadness of not being able to show new gadgets, the eternal waiting that precedes the smell of sage and solemn pages dust off my memories, that it allows my mind is not a square, minimalist office, and every moment of the day I want to visit. For now, I've done: I have gone back to cachivachero. When you lock the capricious will to change? I do not know, I've never known. But meanwhile, try to show how many gadgets I can, lest the fidelity of my key also want to go on holiday.

Welcome, again, I cachivachero (which is also my junk, of course).

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Chapter 10: The wonderful garden (Part I)


Martina, extremely organized, took the paper in which he had pointed the direction in which the stars were located on the map and went on to draw an itinerary.
"Let's see, today we might begin with these two. I do not think that gives us more time. Furthermore, we do not know how we are going into these houses, I guess that will be inhabited ... Well and we managed. Come let the car. By the way Minerva, have you taken the brooch? "He said, biting his pen victim of nerves and emotion.
"Yes, it's in my purse. Sure it's for, as the other hanging replied.
We took the car and headed to the first direction you travel, Girona street 118. On the number 118 of the map was drawn a loaf of bread and what looked like a biscuit, we thought it would be a bakery or pastry, but really had no idea. Barcelona traffic that hour of the morning was terrible. How could there be so many cars!, Was incredible. Circulating in our time only a few dozen and most of them friends and acquaintances of the family and neighborhood. I had changed everything! Finally, after what seemed like ages to us, we arrived at the address in question. We look the building and looked again and did not see any trace of anything that could remind us bread, cookies or bakery. Then, very early, left the old building next to an old man who had at least 100 years.
"Look, we could ask this man if you know of a bakery, pastry or something related to bread and cookies that may be at number 118. What do you think? - Martina said.
- Well, I think it's perfect. We have nothing to lose. Perhaps we can give an answer, "I said as Rita and Rosa nodded.
- Excuse me sir! Good morning, "said Martina.
"Good morning ladies," replied kindly the old man.
"Look, I would like to ask if you know of any bakery or pastry shop here. You have told us that there is at number 118, but not so, "said Martina eagerly awaiting a response.
- A bakery? On the number 118? Yeah ... I think so, "he said staring at three. At this
we laid eyes widened.
- Where is? Where do we go? We do not see, "continued questioning Martina.
"Well I doubt that they can enter. The number 118 was one of the most beautiful modern bakery in Barcelona. The owners were Mr Martorell, Martorell of life, a charming and lovely family. What did bread so delicious!, The best of Barcelona without a doubt. They also made some very good cookies, I have never gone to eat some cookies like those. People came from all over the city to shop here, larguíiiisimas tails were mounted. In fact I worked on her office for a time, when I was very young. Well as I said, there may never come into this bakery because, like many other stores, was torn down without mercy, instead I think a Chinese store. Martorell Forn's disappearance was a very sad moment for the neighborhood and the city-the old man told us with a melancholy air.
"Well, how about you know where we could find someone in the family Martorell? - Martina said.
"Well the truth is no. They sold the bakery and disappeared as if the earth had swallowed. Never again hear from them. In the neighborhood said they had emigrated to Argentina, but never really knew, "replied the old man.
"Oh, what a shame. Thank you for your help, "said Martina.
"You're welcome, ladies. Life happens and the old gives way to new, soon I too will be a memory that will fade with time, "said the kind man as he walked away with a parsimonious way.
"My fears have come true. This bakery gone and what I most afraid of is that the other stars of the map also have "off" ... Do you think that our cookies could get out of here? - Martina said in a tone of disappointment.
- Well, I think it is very probable. If not why was leaving a bakery on that map? - Rosa said.
- is terrible. We must retain those cookies as gold cloth because it will probably be the last ones there, "I very much affected.
The four heads bowed and we were very discouraged, we did not know if all the buildings, shops or whatever that marked those stars
had been destroyed over the years. For us it was a real sadness and desolation. Martina to see our faces of grief trying to persuade them.
"Well, we are not pessimistic. We will continue our search. Surely the rest of the houses are intact,
"Let's hope so ... - Rosa said very discouraged.
Again we took the car and headed to the following address Martina had drawn itinerary was really close before. The next star Ausias March marked the street from 1942 to 1946 and drawing numbers that appeared in that position in the map were some trees. We parked the car and we walked up the address in question and that was when we saw that in the basement of the building had two beautiful sculpted trees that seemed to support the building. We got so happy, at least this house had been demolished. The hard part would come in and find the "secret" hiding ...
We approach the portal and look through the glass. There was no concierge or porter in sight, is the interior was in very precarious conditions. So we decided to call a ring with the intention to enter and inspect.
-Let, and peak I, "said Martina pressing all buttons at once. Soon enough to answer. We thought it was normal, as he was working hours, people were not at home. Finally, a thread of voice, clearly articulated an old lady replied:
- Yes? -
"I am the portfolio. Am I open? "Said Martina. And then heard a clicking sound after the door opened.
"Of course, many alarms and security gossip then with something as simple as saying you're the mail people will open without any fear ..." Martin said with a wink.
enter the building and began to look everywhere to see if there was any sign that might indicate where we had to continue. The truth is that it was very dilapidated and in ruins. After a while searching the site without any success I noticed something moving in my bag.