ᑜ ထဉဉဉဉ ပဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉ ပဉဉဉဉဉဉxဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉ ဇဃဉဉဉဇဉဆဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉဉ
D
ayano para costarse escondidas kon su posser mé
jam tenzen atten partner vivni
mar qesse is enhancing
curriculum
mam
mar qesse
burning
chaw
mis
set
le
Who was going to think that I would be right?
What would end like this?
So clear, so final.
I loved it so much.
We met at work.
I was a hairdresser assistant.
Nothing of the other world.
But the truth is that I had learned to be a good partner with the clientele.
On purpose.
You know that he came the other day.
His niece.
Laurita.
Taking care of his secrets.
But at the end of the day.
I got home from work and from work to home.
I needed something in life.
Until Patricia appeared.
Patricia was the image of the man I never had.
That I always dreamed of.
And he came as I always thought that love would arrive.
Salvation.
Ineligible.
And shaking my heart.
We began to go out.
And I don't know why.
Just there.
I told him that I was torturing all the clients of the hairdresser.
And that.
He went crazy.
But that is love without an aesthetic form of madness.
And that.
And that.
And one day he came to look for me at work.
And words more, words less.
He told me that he had a proposal to make me.
That if he didn't do it apart from the business.
He was going to tell everything to my boss.
And the truth.
The idea of taking care of the business.
I love it.
That same night.
He explained to me the plan that he had to get much more money from the clients.
With his power of seduction and intelligence.
We could make a fortune.
I knew that mixing love with business was meant to fail.
But for the first time in my life.
I let it go.
However.
Our small business worked for a while.
And I didn't know what to do.
And I didn't know what to do.
And I didn't know what to do.
Of course.
With the logic of all business.
And with the normal difficulties of any partner.
But the more we were
the less people came to luxury.
Even in the best moment of our clandestine organization.
The luxury closed.
We decided to fill our lives.
And we bet on the partner.
I was in charge of the house things.
And he tried with some minor jobs.
But the story was always the same.
Overqualified.
Subqualified.
Things got hard.
There was no work.
I never liked to ask for help.
Much less to the family.
But I didn't have any other choice.
To take Patricio
to see Uncle Raul.
Almost everyone in the family worked once for Uncle Raul.
And he gave himself the luxury of helping the relatives.
Could or not.
He gave him pleasure.
Morbo.
You believed San Cayetano in Muitturro?
And you ask me why?
You still ask me why?
Because you're a nephew.
You're a dumbass.
But...
I'm going to brief the story a bit.
Thanks to Uncle Raul
we made ourselves rich in the night and in the morning.
Uncle Raul had a past that...
Yes.
That he wanted to hide at any price.
That body was like a revelation.
Please, don't say anything.
The perfect business.
We all have something to hide, don't we Uncle?
Let's begin to talk about family.
A cousin with an abortion.
Uncle Peronista who visited his friends in the weekends.
A nephew who was never received.
Classics.
Sisters.
Children.
Adoptive children.
Children. Adoptive children.
We extorted each and every one of them.
Grandmothers against their children.
Ex-husband against their children.
Children and lovers out of the stones.
Successions.
And all the rest.
Patricio.
La onda expansiva parecia no tenar fin.
Los parientes
Como era de esperar
Entraron en un pánico oscuro.
Si no te gusta lo podete,
cambiar.
Tanta vergüenza.
Tanto poder.
Tanto renkón.
¿Por qué funcionaba?
¿A quién le importa?
Tanto amor.
Tanto trabajo.
Comenzamos enfrentarnos
solo un problema de moral familiar.
Sino de logística.
Estábamos ganando tanta plata juntos.
Que ya no sabíamos ni dónde meterla.
No tardamos mucho en darnos cuenta
que venderle la información a otros familiares
nos daba más ganancia que ocultarla.
En ese nido de víboras que es mi familia
todo tenía su precio
desde lo más insignificante
hasta el chisme más inverosín.
Y cuando ya todos conocían los secretos de todos
empezamos a inventar.
Estábamos reescribiendo la historia familiar.
Material fresco para meter si sañen las fiestas.
Es que cada uno elige que creer
que contar
que ocultar
y que precio pagar.
Y un día
algo cambió.
Llegó un sobre para mí.
Me daban aprobar
de mi propio veneno.
Perdí la concentración en el trabajo.
Desesperé las noches.
Y muté misteriosamente d'humor.
Patricio
empezó a desconfiar de mí.
Yo me legaba aceptar algo tan evidente.
Volví y revolví mi pasado
buscando con todas mis fuerzas un indicio.
Una señal.
Vi relaciones imposibles.
Vi parecidos inimaginables.
Cartas, manos, ojos.
Vi todas las fotos de mi infancia.
Un verano en el cochea.
Un primo del labio leporino
que fue el amor de mi infancia.
Y sin embargo
I didn't find a single concrete proof
of our parenthesis.
That's how
or maybe that's why
for being familiar with denying it evidently
I left it.
Yes, I left it.
I left.
Leaving all my life behind.
But
it's so difficult to assume
a so common reality
so
familiar.
We all have something to hide.
We all have something to hide.
We all have something to hide.
Beyond what we really see
and against everything and everyone.
We all have something to hide.
Or we want to believe.
Or we need to know that it's me.
As if we took it in the blood.
As if we brought it from the grave.
Hell.
La mala vida.
Patricio y yo
Mi plata
Hermanos
¿Qué es esto?
Mi plata.
Lo vi tan claro.
Pero al fin y al cabo
Todo queden familia, no?
Yo seguí adelante con mi vida.
Bien lejos de Patricio.
Pensando bastante mamá.
Y él
Él seguro se le se arregló para sobrevivir.
Aunque nunca supo por qué me fui.
Y si somos hermanos
¿O no?
Me gustaría que quedara entre nosotros.
Y que nadie más lo separe.
Para que no ande comentando mis espaldas.
Para que no me juzguen.
Básicamente
porque la horne tanto que...
Prima.
A ver.
A ver.
A ver.
