This is a ticket to enter my mind into a world that I have created,
where everything is possible, where the line between reality and unreality is almost
imperceptible, as thin and as fragile as a soap bubble. This is a
series of stories I narrate with the intention of telling you about a fantastic world
that does not exist. Oh, maybe I do, but you know this
doesn' t. I write it only sometimes when it' s nighttime or
when I sleep, sometimes when I meditate, when I focus, when I
' m alone, sometimes when I' m sitting in the dark, sometimes
when I play a drum in a temascal. Some beings tell me stories in
dreams and I write them with them. Then I record them and they accompany
me. Sometimes I just imagine them, other times I just sense them and
other times it seems like I already knew them before and I just remember it.
I am Rodrigo yo and these are stories that told me the night the
book La Librería mágica dos written and narrated by Rodrigo. I got there for
a delivery. My friend, a renowned architect, had just opened a bookshop
and I, being incapacitated by an appendicitis, could not attend the event.
We were supposed to meet for lunch. So I decided to visit his new
work before our meeting. I always see your projects with a critical eye,
the hospital, the park and now the bookstore. The space is magnificent.
Whore' s son did it again. I thought I should have thought it
out loud, because an older woman turned to see me with aggressive eyes.
I' m sorry. I said sorry I approached the steps and went up
it was magnificent. He decorated the wonderful bookshelfs, the real main actors,
without taking the lead. I walked through the halls one by one, looking
closely at the backs of the books and reading the titles. My spirit was
changing and I became more and more interested. He had decided to take me
some to honor his work, but which one would already find him. When
he took me with the right one, I was sure and so he went
down a corridor. I ran into a feather on the floor, a huge
white pen. Couldn' t be pigeon. It must have been something bigger.
I crouched down to take it and raise my head. I saw it
in a book that seemed to be missing. It wasn' t supposed to
be there. It looked like an old book that had just come out of
an old printing shop. It caught my attention and also its title for you
I took it and a dizziness invaded my being along with a strong blow inside
me that moved my center dyed black my gaze. For a few seconds I
just can' t describe it. I came back with a deep breath.
I started looking at it. His gothic lyrics caught my attention, caught me
looking for the price without finding it, which seemed very strange to me.
In the distance, I heard the laughter of some children. I swear to
you, kids in the boring adult book area downstairs are where they should be
laughing, running and screaming. I went to the cafeteria and ordered a double
express. While they were serving it to me. I started going through it
again. The book spoke of the inheritance of trades and the importance of honoring
them. In the family lineage it caught my attention because I was the son
of a salesman and I was on the verge of being a salesman. It
was a brutal connection. I decided to buy the book, but it had
no price, no barcode, it wasn' t even in system. As
the cashier told me. We can' t sell it to him. However,
I' ll talk to the manager. He said upset. I left
the next day. I came back hoping I could talk to the manager.
I looked for the previous day' s clerk, and so I went all
over the store without finding her. I climbed to the second floor and headed
to the shelf where I had first seen him. The book was there in
the same place. I took it and intrigued it. I started reading it
again. I' d soon realize something was wrong. I closed it,
I turned it. I checked the back, the cover, the back cover.
Yes, it was the same, but everything had changed. I started
reading one of the stories. A man had divorced. A wind entered through
the window one night creating a swirl in the main room that it stirred.
The thoughts of the couple intrigued were created and eventually separated. I was telling
the story. Surprised by the story and the way I slowly described mine.
I hooked up with her and decided to take her back to the cafeteria.
I ordered another double express. I sat down to write I pulled out my
golden pen and took notes events situations times times all coincided with my own life.
I was running to the box again, but this time I asked to
speak directly to the manager. I tried to convince him with all the arguments.
I don' t know this book. He' s sure he took
it here. I' m sure some visitor left it behind. I can
' t sell it to him He' s not even in the system.
I left upset. The next day I returned, but this time I went
straight to the lost property box where the manager had left it. The book
was not there without hesitation. I climbed the big steps and headed straight to
the bookcase where I had found it before. There it was for you,
I opened his whole different text. I was caught up in happiness again.
One day he came to the kingdom, counting the book. One morning,
Mr Feudal met a commoner while collecting the straw in a stable, looked at
his eyes and realized that the daughter' s story would change. I kept
reading trying to sort out my ideas and make sense of them. When I
heard a noise, I closed the book and without losing the page, I
headed to the next corridor from where the noise came from. A woman swears
to you that with the most beautiful look I' ve ever seen, I
picked up a lot of huge books that had fallen off the shelf. I
helped her and we talked. We went for coffee and had dinner. I
should have had this book. I thought that' s how I discreetly kept
it in my backpack and got nervous through the door. If I didn'
t have a barcode, I wouldn' t have any owner and no owner,
I wouldn' t have any security device that would trigger the alarm.
And that' s how I got home, I started reading it again.
One day after another. The book was able to tell me every day something
new, something that happened in my past and confirming the magical bond, but
also with things that would soon become reality. Catching me more and more,
page by page, hooked me with his words, became my obsession. The
book kept telling me amazing, wonderful things that would happen in my life.
It' s like I' m writing it myself until one day everything changed.
Total darkness came to the Kingdom unexpectedly. A mantle in the middle of
the night covered it. It' s all death, some of the villagers
said. He' s coming for the king, as the prophecy said.
In the distance, a constant warm noise began to sound the great red dragon
looked away. That' s when I heard something in the kitchen, a
metal tap. I closed without paying attention to the page I was reading.
Maybe that' s what saved me. I got up, I went to
the kitchen and I sensed a burning smell, but there was no smoke,
there was nothing where it came from. I thought I' d tell you
the truth. Today I doubt he really smelled it with his nose. If
you understand what I mean. I left the kitchen and at that very moment
the heater exploded. Firefighters came in just first- degree burns in part of
the leg, but nothing really. What to worry about. I spent that
night in a hotel thinking about bad fortune. Surely the maintenance staff had left
an open key, or perhaps another neighbor made changes to the gas installation or,
perhaps, the book foreshadowed the end of my kingdom. The next day
I went back to my apartment and my s the book opened it by showing
me a new story. I didn' t want to read it. I
went back to the bookstore, climbed up the stairs, headed to the bookseller
and there was the hole where the book lived. I opened my backpack and
left it where I found it. However, I still had within me the
desire to take it, to continue reading it, to continue passing its pages
just as my desire called me and returned for it. A woman took the
book before I apologized. I told him to let him take the book and
he did. He took it, looked at me, smiled and began to
read it. My soul rested the book already had another owner. That'
s 200 pesos. She told me the young woman in the box, a
strange pretty woman with long blonde hair with a look at political traspas and something
else, an excellent decision, better than her previous decision. He said winking
at me, I didn' t say anything. I was shocked. The
Mirror Book is not a good decision. I' m glad you' re
okay after reading it. What do you know about that book? I asked
him Sometimes he shows up not for everyone, just for some, for the
more open like you. It' s a book that was written by magicians
a long, long time ago. Wise apprentices who tired of wanting to please
the insatiable king wrote a magical book that reflects the soul of the reader.
It tells what the reader himself wants to read, Sometimes light, sometimes darkness,
a spell in a cauldron and still there it is. Sometimes it'
s a blessing to some like you. But the book gradually falls in love
and reflects the darkest shadows of the soul. For narcissists, like kings,
reading and hearing about themselves in their best moments is fantastic, but a bad
thought leads the book to become pure darkness and reflects on the plane of the
reality in which we live, what in the plane of fantasy one imagines.
He said wrinkling his nose like a little fairy. Someone else took the book.
I said whispering nothing, you have to do. The book decides so
and so it is time. Then I talked to my friend, the architect.
I know you don' t believe me. I said yes, of
course. I do. I know that place and its tenants answered. I
do. This whole thing was. I was told by an azunche production written
and narrated by Rodrigo and I visited. He told me the night com