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.That’s it, that’s it, says the child, look at her, so sweet and pure, she has always been accused of entering convents just to seduce the nuns.And the one next to her, do you like her? (the perfect oval of her cinnamon face has a single flaw, a five o’clock shadow above her lip), well, don’t kid yourself, she has nothing to do with the work of man, as the priests say; she dressed up as a man to keep from being violated by men and ended up accused of fathering her landlady’s son! That’s why she wound up here, to give her old bones a rest—what a way to go!This story amuses its narrator enormously, and he laughs until he sputtered and choked, pointing his finger at the girl with the mustache and the short chestnut hair.She serves the steaming chocolate while the child subsides; your drink immediately congeals in your cup; the bread turns cold at your touch.You seek the dark eyes of the woman with braids twisted like wagon wheels around her ears, who is dressed in a pink brocade dress buttoned up to the neck: that one would do anything to save herself from men, continued the child.Look at the rolls on her plate: do they resemble tits? Well, that’s what they are, they’re hers, cut off when she refused to give herself to a Roman soldier.Agatha, show the gentleman, entertain our illustrious guest.You lower your eyes as Agatha unbuttons her blouse and reveals her scars, to the hoarse laugh of the boy.—Sometimes she carries bread, sometimes bells, it’s terribly symbolic: the tintinnabulation of toasted tits, get it? And look at the next one, Lucía, you hear me? Look up, poor little Lucy! Lift your veil, let our visitor see the empty sockets where your eyes used to be, you preferred being blinded to being screwed, didn’t you? So now you chew your eyes, served up like fried eggs on your plate …He laughed like crazy, exposing his bloodstained baby teeth, pointing with his finger, getting more worked up since he met with no argument, like a precocious drunkard, commanding the woman with long mahogany hair to open her mouth and show her gums, Apollonia, not a tooth, see, not a single molar, ideal for cocksucking (he laughed harder and harder), a second vagina, the toothless mouth of the dentifrical saint, shake your bag of teeth, Apollonia; which she does, and they all hurry to do something without his asking.The girl with the straw hat, instead of putting the lizard she is holding into her mouth, tries to put herself into the mouth of the lizard; the blind woman takes the fried eggs from her plate and puts them in her empty eyesockets; Apollonia takes the teeth out of her bag and puts them in her mouth; and the child shrieks with laughter and shouts: They just won’t fuck! They just want to get away from men! From repulsed suitors! From unsatisfied fathers! From raging soldiers! Better dead than bed! The convent is their refuge from male aggression, see, they tried to seduce me, I’d like to see them try again; and one woman begins to play the guitar, another the harp—beautiful women, women the color of spikenard and lemon, cinnamon women and pearl women, lilting as an endless autumn, silent as the heart of summer, silky and lacy as a contemplative sea: they don’t look at the child, the child points at them with his tiny finger, the finger injured by the needle; the woman who accompanies him holds her head in her hands, she lowers her arms, she makes me look at her, she is the only one who isn’t beautiful, she is a dusky woman with moles on her temples, she reaches out and drops a thorn from the rose on the table.Come, she says to the child, and the child resists, he says no, she doesn’t repeat her command, she just looks at him, he closes his eyes and puts out his hand, she gives him the thorn, he takes it, and without opening his eyes, he pricks his index finger with it.His blood flows
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