Leo

I’m not one of those who despise the elderly. As some do. Those who think of old people as devoid of any energy; Merely rubbish 🗑. & those “youngsters” endeavour to avoid any contact with the young of old.

On the contrary, I love talking to old people, especially experienced old ones! I was pondering on this topic while travelling on a bus to Tafi Viejo (Old Tafi), to visit my grandma 👵. She’s a woman full of stories, anecdotes, situations, full of life!

I always made sure I got on the early bus to the Old City. Before sunrise 🌅 & return after the sun 🌞 had fallen under the San Xavier mountains ⛰ I detest the sun. It’s an abominable thing. So, I would arrive at my grandma at, say, 9:00, & depart from her flat at 1900.

I remember those times ⏲ with utmost love ❤ & devotion. I’ll never repent of having drunk from her wisdom.

She used to tell me about her stories when she was a child. In Catamarca- a province beside my own- how she met my grandpa, now passed away. He flew away in the 90s. His death dealt a real blow to me. It was the first death I experienced in my family. A part of me died on that day. From that moment on, I said to myself,  I’m gonna drink 🍸 from her wisdom before it’s too late!

I remember how I used to place my head upon her lap while listening 🎶 to her stories. She’d always say <Baby Jəsus! You’re gonna be The King of my heart ❤

While I drank from the radiance of her splendour. I literally sucked her energy, her firy 🔥 life, her sweet eyes.

-        Boy! Whenever I saw your grandad, the sun 🌞 shone over me like a good fortune star 🔯

He told me <I’m gonna return when you’re 18 & I’m gonna pick you up & take you to Tucumán.. Land of the future> I thought he was joking. But, at the age of 18, 6 years later, there he was, asking for my hand to my dad. The Indian Acosta. & away we flew to Tucumán, land of the future, paradise on earth 🌎 Besides, I’d no choice: I’d just graduated as a teacher & that meant- in those days- I was a bad woman. Yeah, modern times ⏲  didn’t reach Catamarca that quickly in those days.>

She used to cook 🍳 me most delicious 😋 food. Love ❤ was in it! I ate from that too. Now & then I approached the window 🪟 to make sure my enemy had set behind the mountain ⛰

-        I have to go, grandma 👵

-        OK! M’hijo (my son) – she’d say.

& back did I travel to San Miguel- the city of the youngsters- full of energy & feeling vibrant.

-        How’s mum? – my own mum, her daughter, used to ask me.

-        She’s OK. Mum.

I think I’ll never forget her flat in the City of Old. I think my heart will be at her spiritual flat for a long time. I sometimes dream of that flat, & that my mum, her & I are together drinking tea 🍵

I was pondering on these themes while I was travelling years later to place flowers 💐 on her grave. Of all the grandkids she had, I must be the only one doing this thing. I don’t believe in The spiritual realm, but in the resurrection of the bodies. When The One will call us by our names! <Baby Jəsus, you’re gonna be The King of my heart ❤ > I keep on repeating to myself. Now I extract energy from Him who sustains me. Who’ll raise me on The Other Day. & we’ll all be together again. For I dread the physical sun 🌞 but adore the real One ✝️ Fountain of my eternal energy. As long as I drink from His blood, I’ll be alive, sleeping, though.

 also love 💕 going to a nearby pool I’ve got in my city 🏙️ City of the Young 🌱 I feel I take the energy of the pool; of the people who swim in it. I need to be constantly drinking from the energy of my neighbours. I crave for this energy!

I know one I’ll fly 🕊️ away one day.

I know it! But I also know His blood shall sustain me & bring me up on The Other day; That day!

“Wake up, sleeper,(A)

    Rise from the dead,(B)

    And Christ will shine on you.”

For Ephesians 5: 14 by Paul.

I was the first unman (a homosexual) to be admitted to the rite of funerals. I was glad & elated. I couldn’t believe myself being accepted to the ritual ONLY for men.

The great day came, & I was readier than I thought. Apart from a weather forecast which announced a storm, I knew well in which the Parsi funeral ritual consisted of: Four men were supposed to carry the dead body, the corpse, after the usual wake, of course, into the Tower of Silence: it is a circular shape with three rings, one for men, one for women, and one for kids. At the centre of the tower, there's a hole for collecting the remains of the dead bodies. The tower has no roof, so that vultures & air birds might come & devour the remains. The walls of the towers are usually coronated with birds accustomed to human flesh.



This is the way parses will dispose of dead bodies. Always would, Always will. In this particular case, three men & an unman. A filthy one to dispose of the filthy.

That day, we stepped the upstairs to the door of the Tower. Without, a tornado of vultures & the like. Within, only silence. Ours & the silence of the dead bodies. Some were at an intermediate form of decomposition. Some showed their bones, some their skulls. However morbid the scenery may look like, not even the skulls showed a menacing look, nor the hands appeared to attack. Quite on the contrary, the corpses & the skeletons appeared to beseech supplication. Perhaps, that's the last look of humans before actually passing away. I thought I'd be terrified. At the end, I was deeply moved. Tears rolled down my cheeks & I rushed one hand to cover my face.

At that precise moment! I heard the entrance door 🚪 😳 being locked 🔒 It was all a trap! they'd decided to let the filthy one- the unman- rot with the ones already rotting away!

Furious at this attitude, I climbed- as I could- one of the walls. I stretched my arms up to the sky & shouted firmly:

Oh! M4zd4! Lord of Time & eternity! In this precise occasion, the filth is not within this tower, but without! May Your Holy Power descend upon us & consume us! If it is Thy Will. & cleanse us from all impurities.

Away fled the birds, up came the storm with its wind & rays! The fire 🔥 coming from the Sky consumed us, took us, elevated us, raptured us to Heaven. Me, the unman, & them, the un-living.  Oh, M4zd4. -Thou workest in mysterious ways!- & don’t say you Zoroastrian, you Parsi that we polluted the firy element. For it was a fire 🔥 sent by The Only One God; a fire that cannot be contaminated.

I was ruminating with that thought when I suddenly woke up at my flat in Tucumán. I'd left the radio 📻 on, Eurythmics were singing "Here comes the rain again". I turned it off & on did I turn my TV. There was a "Christian" preacher yelling how gays would go headlong to hell. I sighed & prayed for some change: & my prayer was interrupted by thunder of an upcoming storm in the distance.

- Oh! Lord. I'm sick & tired of the "saintly saints". SOME straights claim that we’re sinners, we gays. So, they must be the saints. Some others state that they hate the supposed sin but love sinners, as if they hadn’t got enough sin to work on inside,  huh?