(Part I: See blog post Maisons des Passions)
Mr. Chin Chi was driving his car with torn shirts and merely a pinch of manhood left after being devoured by shameless mistresses day in and day out. Yes, there he was this lonely soldier abandoned and shattered, alone in the world once again. He fondly kept memories of his beloved Pusetta, but that had become an illusion to keep him dreaming at night. Yes, his life was like a “colador”, a strainer, it strained each and every person and left him with the sole luxury of good company, himself.
As a trovador, he began to discover new worlds, new flavors, and new airs. After his Macondo-like shattered city, afterwords Madrid had been a passerby, he was now onto discover new grounds….East Harlem. Yes, ladies and gents, he no longer dreamt of Zimbabwe or Madagascar, he wanted to breed back his strong Latino roots and engage in the cha cha cha and as quickly as he felt it, he tossed away his flamenco oles and was headed to Latin Quarters.
Surrounded by cinnamon colored girls and ebony curved bottoms, he could no longer resist to his old temptations. He accomodated himself in a humble room rented to a Lola dressed in a white polka dot red dress with Marylin Monroe hair and loved her every moment he could. He became a well dressed chauffer once again to an elegant couple, Mr. and Mrs. Hyde, young and wealthy they lived in the opposite side of town, the preppy Upper East Side next to Grand Central Park. She would have lunch at Nello´s almost everyday accompanied by dirty martinis and he watched her sip and drown in them everyday at 1:23pm. Mr. Hyde on the other hand, would drive up on his Bentley up Madison Avenue to some elegant skyscrapper wearing suspenders and always a shiny textured blue tie.
Later on at 3:15pm, Mrs. Hyde would meet her lover down half way by Union Square, and would disappear til 5:20pm on the dot. He was a vagabond, driven by passion and wild dreams of success built on his 10 canvases of shattered paint which he thought were of similarity to Rothkos. But he was no poor man, subsidized by Mrs. Hyde, he somehow managed to sell some three paintings at the Clive Gallery on Chelsea and pulled together a somewhat decent exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum.
Mr. Hyde worked long hours, but not only on paperwork, but on top of the photocopy machines, random desks in the office, sometimes back car seats and oh well… You can imagine all the lipstick marks and perfume scents Mrs. Hyde must´ve smelled and tasted by that time.
So they were a happy foursome or more and so was Mr. Chin Chi….but the story shall continue.
the jungle inside the girl 