Desolation Street - Scarlet Town Intro (English)

 

(Play along)

In this town , where fog rules, a woman lies down on her bed next to her dead husband . He is given makeup and gets perfume every day by his widow, his eyes are half closed . This makes her think that he is about to rise . With a kiss on the forehead, she says goodnight. Scrubs his face with a silk handkerchief, to clean makeup. Leaves the scarf on her bedside table, along with cosmetics and closes her eyes. Suddenly, she feels a breeze on her face and remembers that she should close the window. Autumn is the cruelest time around here. Walking slowly to the window, the sound of a violin appears loudly. She could hardly see a few feet outside her window, she sees a shadow through the density of weather. She knows who is there. Her young lover. A boy a few years younger, standing at the foot of a bluff. Playing the violin with all his soul, the song that he dedicates to his impossible love every night. He doesn’t care that she has aged so much in so little time, nor that she goes out less and less tidy on the street. She goes only to spend their wealth in makeup and perfumes for her late husband. She knows that this young man is gonna stay another hour playing for her and then he goes to the bar to mourn between drunk fat, anorexic whores and tired thieves.

 If in this town love is a sin, beauty is a crime. That is very clear in the bar, and that you can not be picky with prices. The bartender has a shotgun under the counter. Although, is well known to be very cowardly to use it, he likes to clean it in front of all, to demonstrate who controls the place. But this bar has a clear king, the Desolation, musicalized by a blind accordionist who is lying somewhere, but nobody can find it. No one is looking either. He's just the leftover of a famous musician who spun old town after town, until went blind in the first minute in this town. A blow to the head some say, others also say he drank so much that  he went blind. Nobody cares to ask. He sings about a forgetful heart. He wonders why they can not love as they did before,  and always ends by saying that "The door has closed forevermore, If indeed there ever was a door." His voice is the voice of a land with thousands of years of war and it doesn’t cause the same intrigue in women's bars. It only fills them with weariness. Some of them wear red, with tattered clothing, with cigarette brands  and the smell of too many men. Those women who still think that the end isn’t near, dark circles makeup to attract some distracted man that will spend his coins earned in the cotton field. They, who have already lost their charm and their touch one too many autumns behind, approach directly and invite the men to go to one of the upstairs rooms .

After asking the bartender for the key, she comes up with her customers by plaintive stairs. A combination of its chirps with the blind man’s accordion, shakes even the bravest of thieves. Those who are planning the bank robbery. Robbery never happens because at the end of the night they will be so drunk that they will not remember anything. They go off as the whiskey is ticking. The only thing that waking them is the terror of creaking of the stairs made by the steps of the couple down. She, with a disgusted face, gives the key to the bartender in exchange for a glass of cold beer. The distracted customer goes down as usual, no even a smile, simulating air greets and leaves. He has to go back to sleep in a bed, not a furniture without form like in a bar's bedroom.

The way back from the bar always concerns the workers. In the mist the sounds of the accordion or violin are mixed with the wind blowing through the old trees, waking up some owl or some creatures of the night. Each movement could be anything, and alcohol creates images in the shadows. The drunk  man says his prayers up to his bed with the well locked door. Just now he can sleep. The next day he expects another hot day in the field.

And the widow, well, she closes the window without the slightest gesture. Of course, the morphine doesn’t make her feel many things. She returns to her bed, to her dead one, to her denial. In this town the good and evil live side by side.

So you know, if you come to find your lost woman in this town , first read carefully the sign:

"SCARLET TOWN.

Mourning is useless."

Let's Go! (Español)

                                                                          (Tócalo, Dizzy)

VAMOS, mujer, apura, vuelve de esa tienda, que el sol, el calor, está matando en este auto, esta nave para cruzar una vez más todo este maldito país. 

VAMOS, que el polvoriento pasado está pisándonos los talones.

VAMOS, que el jazz está sonando fuerte y la carretera llama. Tenemos que partir antes de que sea demasiado tarde, antes de que dejes de sonreírme. Como me sonreíste antes de bajar del coche.

VAMOS, VAMOS, que la noche está cerca y nosotros tan lejos de la ciudad.

VAMOS, que este coche es muy solitario sin tu risa y tus historias de otros tiempos, todas exageradas solo para divertirme y atraparme más.

VAMOS, Porque tardarás tanto en esa tienda? De seguro, estás enamorando al pobre muchacho de la gasolinera, para robarle, mientras lo miras con tus ojos. Esos ojos de sol, llenos de noches y pecados, esos que con un simple guiño te pueden destruir, conquistar, dar fuerzas y quitármelas. Quizás él esté tan atontado que no se dé cuenta que llevas una de mis camisas puesta.

Seguro ese muchacho tampoco puede parar de mirarte la boca, mientras tú le robas víveres para seguir viajando, para comer, o para fumar algo.

VAMOS, niña, que tú puedes, son los años 40s estan terminando, Dizzy Gillespie está explotando en los parlantes de este coche y cualquier tendero de esta parte olvidada del país solo piensa en salvar su tarde, de aburrimiento y radio de transmisiones entrecortadas con música country, con una muchacha como tú.

 VAMOS, que tenemos mucho camino por rodar.

VAMOS que estas ruedas mueren por volver a morder el asfalto, devorando las líneas blancas de la carretera, buscando un próximo pueblo donde haya gente loca por hablar, por saber de lugares que ellos nunca conocerán, pero que siempre se prometerán ir. Esta promesa sólo los llevará, a que al momento de volver a la cama, sientan decepción por sus promesas rotas.

Probablemente encontremos algún loco más por el camino, que vaya por la carretera con su dedo apuntando al destino, al futuro, a la siguiente ciudad, a una noche llena de jazz. Alguien que hable sin parar todo el camino. Quizás pueda conducir también. Me vendría bien un poco de descanso… pero no ahora, esta música, su ritmo, sus trompetas me acaban de llenar de energía. Como la gasolina que conseguimos en la anterior estación, con el poco dinero que nos quedaba. Lo importante es seguir fluyendo. A los caminantes les cobraremos un poco por llevarlos a destino.

Por fin, sales de esa maldita tienda, con esa sonrisa de victoriosa maldad, con tu cabellera rubia al viento y esos ojos clavados en el coche. Trayendo toda la mercancía escondida entre mi camisa y tu piel, intentando hacer la menor cantidad de señas posibles, para que el de la tienda no note robo. Igual no lo notará hasta dentro de varios días, cuando por fin pueda sacarse tus ojos y sonrisa de la cabeza. 

Esa sonrisa con la que me mirarás seguramente en el próximo bar mientras te vas con otro, quizás un marinero. Quizás hasta digas lo siento, quizás te crea.

Pero nosotros sabemos cómo son las reglas del camino, siempre sentimos lo mismo solo que lo vemos desde distintos puntos de vista. Sé que no será el fin. Sé que nos encontraremos de nuevo en algún cruce de caminos o caminando sobre las vías abandonadas de tren en una ciudad muy gris. Tu siempre dices “Nos volveremos a encontrar algún día en la avenida”. Nos sonreiremos y todo seguirá fluyendo, donde la noche nos lleve.

Finalmente, estás sentada a mi lado de nuevo.

“Llegaste justo para el final de la canción, tal como tu dijiste, solo te tomó 3 minutos y 21 segundos”.

Me guiñas y señalas a la carretera, al futuro. “Solo existe el hoy, no? VAMOS!"

LET'S GO!

 

                                                                           (Play it, Dizzy!)

LET'S GO woman, hurry up, come back from that store, that the sun, the heat, is killing in this car, this ship to cross once again this whole damn country.

LET'S GO that the dusty past is on our heels.

LET'S GO that jazz is sounding loud and the road is calling. We have to leave before it's too late, before you stop smiling at me, the way you smile me before you got out of the car.

LET'S GO, LET'S GO, that night is near and we are so far from the city.

LET'S GO, this car is very lonely without your laugh and your stories from other times, all exaggerated just to have fun and get me more trapped.

LET'S GO, why do you take so long at that store? Surely, you're making the poor boy at the gas station fall in love with you, to rob him, while you look at him with your eyes. Those sunny eyes, full of nights and sins, A simple wink from those eyes can destroy, conquer, give strength and take them away. Maybe he's so stunned that he doesn't realize you're wearing one of my shirts.

Surely that boy cannot stop looking at your mouth either, while you steal food from him to continue traveling, to eat, or to smoke something.

LET'S GO, girl you can do it, the 40s are ending, Dizzy Gillespie is bursting out of this car speaker and any grocer guy in this forgotten part of the country only thinks about saving their afternoon, from boredom and choppy radio broadcasting country music, with a girl like you.

LET'S GO we have a long way to go.

LET'S GO these wheels are dying to bite the asphalt again, devouring the white lines of the road, looking for a next town where there are people crazy to talk, to know of places that they will never know, but that they will always promise to go. This promise will only lead them, when they go back to bed, to feel disappointed by their broken promises.

We will, probably, find one mad person along the way, who goes down the highway with his finger pointing to the destination, to the future, to the next city, to a night full of jazz. Someone who talks nonstop all the way. Maybe he can drive, too. I could use a little rest ... but not now, this music, its rhythm, its trumpets have just filled me with energy. Like the gasoline we got in the last station, with the little money we had left. The important thing is to keep flowing. We will charge walkers a little to take them to their destination.

FINALLY, you leave that damn store, with that smile of victorious evil, with your blonde hair blowing in the wind and those eyes fixed on the car. Bringing all the merchandise hidden between my shirt and your skin, trying to make as few signs as possible. So that the storekeeper doesn’t notice the theft. He may not notice it for several days, when he can finally get your eyes and smile out of his head.

That smile with which you will be, surely, looking at me in the next bar while you go with another guy, perhaps a sailor. You might even say sorry, maybe I will believe you.

But we know how the rules of the road are, we always did feel the same. We just saw it from a different point of view. I know it won't be the end. I know that we will meet again at some crossroads or walking on abandoned train tracks in a very gray city. You always say "We'll meet again someday on the avenue". We will smile at each other and everything will continue to flow, wherever the night takes us.

You are finally sitting next to me again.

“You came right to the end of the song, just like you said, it only took you 3 minutes and 21 seconds.”

You wink at me and point to the road, to the future: “There is only today, right? LET'S GO!”

Hair Clip to Space

(Play me)

That morning he woke up alone, for the first time in three years. He didn’t even try to find her on the bed, still with his eyes closed, he knew she had left the apartment. In that moment, he felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate. He sat on the bed looking down, staring, trying to find the connections of the dots from the floor, searching for a clue of what he should do now or what he should have done the day before, or the entire year before, “was there any clue? Did she say something so I could fix it? What did I miss? What did I forget? I still believe she was my twin but I lost the ring, and other things”. The floor didn’t answer, why should it say anything? It was screaming the entire year and a half, but he didn’t have his feet on the ground.

He told himself he didn't care; pushed the window open wide. There is a new day ahead. “What day is it? And why isn't it Friday yet?”, then he saw all the ornaments “It is 4th already!? When did June end!? And most of all WHY?”. “Great- he thought – I have a free day today, just for myself… - silence- … -then he realized - … OH NO!”

The loneliness and desperation to fill that hole turned into hunger. A big... tasty... juicy.. killer hamburger would do the job, and fries, don’t forget the fries, EVER. With an enormous glass of coke. “It's 4th of July, no doubt, there is a place with a discount. I have a coupon in the car, I think  it is inside the tools box.” So, for now, his day was changing, the sun was bright, really bright… the sun was burning the earth, having a hangover didn’t help him either.

When he found his car, he remembered why she always complained about how he always left everything rotten and old. That car had better moments, but really a long time ago. Also, he started questioning why he was using that leather jacket? He was sweating a lot. So, he searched the entire car for the tool box, but he couldn’t find it. What he DID find was the coupon, BUT, there is always a BUT. It was cut in half and in the top part it said “This box is mine”. He knew her handwriting so well, from the postals that she used to send him from everywhere she traveled. Then he thought about how well her flight attendant uniform looked on her and how she knew to take off so quickly. He knows, even, when she writes angrily, complaining about delayed flights or the passengers. When he saw the piece of paper again, that he couldn’t use anymore for the discount, he recognized that anger.

So, he started the car praying for it to work just fine, that was the most he could pray for that car, to work just fine, not perfect or smoothly as before, just fine. He thought about those two words for a while, “I need to be just fine, I have to be just fine, just…” the car is just broken with smoke all over the place, that’s not fine at all. When he started to convince himself about being fine, the car suddenly was a black cloud, the one which only brings storms and problems. So, he tried to park it and did it successfully, if you can use that word in this situation. When everyone saw this car turned into bad weather, many people ran away, a few remained in shock, no one was indifferent to the show, someone pulled a fire extinguisher but he stopped. He just wanted seat and watch how worse this could turn, just waiting for something to happen, “this isn't THAT bad, this isn't a fire-extinguisher-situation”, he thought about his relationship, he always did that, waiting for the smoke to disappear, no need to extreme movements or decisions. He opened the car hood, and just let the situation cool down and left it.

He needed to fix it because he was still far away from the hamburger of his dream, it didn't matter if he didn't have the coupon anymore, he...just...needed… to be there, and ask them to accept the ticket, to accept him, again, please. “Wow.. I'm going too deep now, I need to run off”. Then he saw the car again. “I need to fix this, I just need my tool box, and everything will be...”. Yes, that, remember? He went crazy looking in the car for something that he can use to fix it. “It doesn't take much, just a hook, or something like that '' When he took out the carpet of the front passenger floor, he saw a hair clip. It was the one she used the last time he took her to the airport. She was angry, he was late, as usual. “Wait, not like always, probably, last month, last year really” - he lied to himself. “...” He stared at the clip for a long time, holding it high, thinking in the past, more than on the solution. Everyone there saw it, some laughing, nudging each other, but there was a serious man with glasses, who at the beginning had curiosity about this desperate show, but now it got his full attention. He wanted to know how this guy could solve this stressing situation with just a hair clip. This serious man had a briefcase, a suit, short hair, and those big glasses, he was all business. To everyone on the scene, he looked like a man that had everything under control, but under his big brown eyebrows his eyes  showed desperation. Today he had an ultimatum in the office, he needed to find a solution, a big one. Those eyes that are now back to reality staring at this crazy man repairing an obsolete machine, with a clip, and nothing else than pure determination. “Please, solve this problem, fix this car, save this car, save your soul, save … me” - The man with the glasses thought.

When he finished, only ten people left watching, everyone clapped and went their ways, the man with the glasses with a triumphant smile wrote something on a little notebook, took a glimpse of his watch and ran away, he was late. 

Now, on his way to his hamburger, he was tired, but he proved himself that he can solve problems, and that hamburger will be his reward, even if it is really late in the afternoon, and this will be his only meal of the entire day. The coupon was burned out on the car, as the memory of her angriness. He felt lighter, he didn't forget her but he didn't feel her on his shoulder, complaining. Of course, he couldn't buy the hamburger he wanted, but with a few coins that he had on him, bought something in the middle of the menu, so he was moderately happy when he sat down with his meal. He was tired, so after eating he went directly to his house to take a well deserved shower and went to the bed again. The holiday was over for him, the fireworks caught him looking to the sky through his curtains and felt like she was watching the TV on mute in the room, but it didn't bother him this time. The breeze and the shower calmed him. 

The next morning he didn't feel hungover, for the first time in a long time, he felt clean. The only thing that was bothering him was his fingers, tired from fixing the car, but nothing important. He thanked past himself for turning on the ceiling fan last night before sleep, he didn't remember doing that but it was a great idea. Slowly opened his eyes and sat in the bed, this time he was telling to the dots on the floor that it doesn't matter if they are not connected, nothing is connected, things just happen and you need to fix it and just go. At that moment, he heard a letter coming from behind the door, covering the dots of the floor. Then he realized that he woke up because he heard the knock at the door, “I was so asleep that i didn't know what was that noise?”

When he saw the logo on the envelope he didn't believe it, he knew that blue circle with the red rocket on the center, he saw it before on the news. It wasn't that heavy as the offer that was written inside. They wanted to meet him, for the achievement of yesterday. "Yesterday? But I just watched smoke coming out of my car, nothing else, probably they were impressed by how fast I ate that hamburger” He made him laugh at  himself, for the first time in a month or two. “Two months?” He could remember the last time he did this. And the melancholy was starting to hit again but then he remembered the letter and read it again.  The meeting was the very next day. “Should I wear a tie? Do I have a tie? That's for adults!” He didn't leave the house the entire day, he just forgot about the tie and the letter. In the same way as he let the smoke disappear from the car he let the smoke of the excitement for the meeting banish from his heart. “Just take a coffee, and watch the situation cool itself down.”- he thought watching the windows wondering if the stars and the dots of this floor are that different.

The day of the interview, an official car took him to the airport, he didn't have time to think about the floor nor in the shower. He was late, of course. The car waited 20 minutes for him. The driver's face wasn’t as angry as he thought it would be, she had time to smoke a cigarette outside the car, the first one of the day, so she was relieved that this random guy, she had to carry to the airport, was late. “At least he let me know that he was late, so I had time to relax” - Though the driver. The driver traveled with him on the airplane and drove him to the office, when they arrived. They didn't speak the entire trip. The driver looked really professional but kind enough to answer any question about the travel, but he didn't want to bother her. He was looking through the window all the time. The only time they tried to talk was on the plane, they were face to face. When the plane took off, it shook a bit, her hat fell down to her lap and something flew to the floor. When he went down to pick it up, he found out that it was a hair clip. He couldn't believe it, another one. He took it, and offered it to her. She wasn't looking, her eyes were lost on the window, watching the car in the parking lot. “Should I give it to her?” - he thought - “Should I insist on having her attention or speak to her? Should I keep it? Maybe I need it again. Is it creepy if I keep it? Is it ILLEGAL if I keep it? I'm stealing something from an official from the state?” - He started to panic- “It's been too long since I picked it up. If I give it to her now, she will ask what I was doing with it, should I insist? ” - He started to sweat, it felt like he was at a crime scene with a knife and the sirens were coming.  He hid the clip in the front pocket of his blue jacket. “Why did I put it there? My hand passed just in front of her face, i should hide it in the right pocket” He thought about the word he used: HIDE. “I'm in trouble”. He pretended he was about to sleep, he just closed his eyes and tried to forget about this. Why couldn't he let this smoke disappear, to cool down?

When they arrived at the Nasa building, she went really close to him, face to face. He was surprised and scared. His muscles were solid rock suddenly. She grabbed his jacket’s front pocket firmely with one hand, pulled something from her pocket and pressed it on his chest.  “She knows! I'm dead! Probably there is an order to kill someone who steals something from an oficial, or maybe she is a spy and that was her recording device.” She took the clip from his pocket and hooked his ID card with it, that she had on her pocket, raised one eyebrow, gave him a milimetrical smile and went back to her car. He saw her driving off to the sunset, and didn't know what to do.

So he just started walking to the door. In the hall of the building was a big desk with the receptionist, she cordially smiled at him and he awkwardly took out the letter from his bag. “Hi, yesterday... I received a letter from here… I … I have a meeting … it says... here''. He stood there waiting for everything to be just a long joke, and also couldn't figure out the hair of this nice, smily girl. It was really really dark, too much to be natural, with blondish imperceptible roots… “What IS this place?”
“Hi, Welcome to Nasa, they are waiting for you, just let me call my superior” She was lovely indeed, but she has an accent, a very very hidden accent inside of a fake local accent. He couldn't take his eyes out of hers. She stared at him too, he felt the electricity. Then a man with a boring suit and big glasses interrupted the silent conversation.  He had a really big smile, but one can tell that he isn't used to smiling. “He even brought his own clip” - Said to her pointing to his pocket - “He is an action man, always ready. I like him”. He looked at the hair clip with his ID on his jacket, and turned completely red. He didn't dare to watch her reaction, but she giggled. “It seems he is perfect...” The last letters of that word sounded almost like convicts escaping from a highly guarded prison of her mouth. She didn't mean it in that way, but it was too late to correct it. The silence was broken for a short but a strong handshake and introduction. Then both men went away, walking through a long hall to an elevator. She kept looking at him, until he peeped over his shoulder to see her. She unnaturally turned her head to the other side. “Why didn't I just shut up?” - was her thought following him with the eyes all the way until the elevator. That was the last time she saw him…. until the following week, and then every day.

After a few months, you would want to know how he is doing? He is happy, they are secretly dating, because you can't have a relationship with coworkers, Nasa policy. He leaves hidden letters on her desk. She is fully blonde now and doesn't try to hide her accent. When she started to tell him about her childhood and her native country, she fell in love with it again and he fell in love with her. He encouraged her to enjoy her culture again, so they went to medieval fairs and beer parties. He is learning her language. The dots of his new floor occasionally show connections, in other moments the stars, but mostly her eyes.  She never asked him why he had the hair clip on the car nor in the jacket. He, sometimes, and just sometimes, calls and goes out with the driver. She also dates her… often.