《-CAPIacute;TULO TRES-》.docVIP

-CAPíTULO TRES- FICCIóN DETECTIVESCA The dead may guard the treasure, but it’s useless treasure unless it can be brought back into the land of the living and allowed to enter time once more --Margaret Atwood, Negotiating with the Dead So?é que en un cementerio olvidado de áfrica encontraba la tumba de un amigo cuyo rostro ya no podía recordar. (...) So?é que era un detective viejo y enfermo y que buscaba gente perdida hace tiempo. A veces me miraba casualmente en un espejo y reconocía a Roberto Bola?o. --Roberto Bola?o, “Un paseo por la literatura” Permíteme contar lo que he oído. Con tu bendición, Que pueda yo revelar lo que yace hondo en lo oscuro del Submundo Virgilio, La Eneida He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things, he brought us a tale of the days before the flood. He went a long journey, was weary, worn out with labour, and returning engraved on a stone the whole story --adapted from The Epic of Gilgamesh, trans. NK Sanders  Wake up call Where was I? Screeching, a ray of light made its way through the crack in the door like a long, bony index finger and eventually found me on the bed. As I sensed it slowly poking at my eyelids, creeping over and disclosing my location, an unexpected, uncontrollable fear took hold of my mind. For a moment I thought I saw the huge black bitch advancing, leading that light in through the doorway, its disturbed canine instincts calling her to the tender flesh that now held up my panic-stricken head. Where was I? What was I doing there? A wave of relief shook my whole body when, trailing behind her own dark shadow, the robed silhouette of the pharmacist drew its shape in front of my eyes. --Feeling any better? She bent over, lifted the covers and gently pushed me over on my right side. Just then did I realize how naked my body felt underneath those covers, the chilly nocturnal breeze tensing a hirsute layer of warmly humid skin that stretched down from the nape, over buttocks and thighs and all the way to the h