[ESP - ENG] TRAZOS

Guillermo era un pintor que vivía de su arte como los pulmones del aire. Trazaba entre dichosos lienzos hermosos paisajes de edificios y personas. Su cara se iluminaba entre paredes ominosas y míseras sábanas manchadas de mugre.

Solo, en su habitación; desdeñada por la belleza, hacía sus bellas creaciones. No paraba de pintar; era como una maquina inagotable que solo podía ser detenida con el hambre y el sueño. Un día, sus ojos hinchados no pudieron más, y al terminar con su último trazo dando un sorbo de licor, se arrojó al suelo alcanzando a una de sus sábanas percudidas, y comenzó a soñar, balanceándose entre polvo de estrellas oníricas que lo llevaban hacia apacibles mundos.

Soñó con una mujer que corría desnuda cerca de un castillo. Era una joven de piel blanca, con el cabello marrón como el barro y glúteos enormes bien formados. A Guillermo le entró la curiosidad y fue tras ella como un bandido. La mujer se ocultó en un enorme trigal, el cual murmuraba palabras inenarrables que no se podían repetir.

Guillermo caminaba sin rumbo, mirando a todos lados como un ave. No entendía lo que pasaba y el cielo comenzó a volverse más negro. Relámpagos de ansiedad resonaron en su pecho. Un haz de luz fugaz se manifestó casi enfrente de él y lo cegó, tumbándolo al suelo de súbito. Y luego, todo se tornó oscuridad, hasta que sus ojos se abrieron lentamente y pudo vislumbrar una sonrisa, rodeada de rizos de cabello color café.

Ella estaba allí, sentada sobre una roca. Guillermo preguntó su nombre, pero ella no respondió. Estaba recostada de lado, exhibiendo su cuerpo desnudo para el pintor. Sintió deseos de estar con ella, pero sus pies eran tan pesados como rocas. Una risa proveniente de la nada se manifestó y nubes oscuras lo cubrieron todo.

Guillermo despertó con el corazón en la mano. Sudaba, babeaba, el aliento se le escapaba violentamente de su boca hasta que exhaló muy fuerte y se calmó. Se levantó de súbito del suelo y buscó otro lienzo para pintar.

Una combinación de pieles, cabellos, pechos bien formados y glúteos frondosos, se apoderaron de su nueva creación. Guillermo había pintado a aquella mujer a la perfección; incluso su sonrisa era idéntica, recostada en aquella roca con esa pose tan sensual que volvió loco al pintor.

Al terminar, jadeó de felicidad. Se quedó observando su pintura como por un minuto hasta que esta le guiñó un ojo. Guillermo, sorprendido, pensó que era producto del cansancio mental, pero se equivocó.

El retrato de la mujer se escapaba del lienzo y pidió la mano de Guillermo. Él pensó que estaba en un sueño y extendió su brazo hacia ella. Ella lo jaló hacia la pintura y ambos quedaron retratados en ella. Ambos sonreían de la misma manera, abrazados cuerpo a cuerpo en un campo de felicidad.

Guillermo was a painter who lived from his art like the lungs from the air. He traced among blissful canvases beautiful landscapes of buildings and people. His face was illuminated between ominous walls and miserable sheets stained with dirt.

Alone, in her room; scorned by beauty, she made her beautiful creations. She never stopped painting; it was like an inexhaustible machine that could only be stopped by hunger and sleep. One day, his swollen eyes could take no more, and as he finished his last stroke, taking a sip of liquor, he threw himself to the floor, reaching for one of the sheets, and began to dream, swaying among dreamlike stardust that took him to peaceful worlds.

He dreamed of a woman running naked near a castle. She was a young woman with white skin, mud-brown hair, and huge, shapely buttocks. Guillermo became curious and went after her like a bandit. The woman hid in a vast wheat field and murmured unspeakable words that could not be repeated.

Guillermo walked aimlessly, looking everywhere like a bird. He did not understand what was happening and the sky began to turn blacker. Lightning flashes of anxiety resounded in his chest. A fleeting beam of light appeared almost in front of him and blinded him, suddenly knocking him to the ground. And then, everything turned to darkness, until his eyes slowly opened and he caught a glimpse of a smile, surrounded by curls of brown hair.

She was there, sitting on a rock. Guillermo asked her name, but she didn't answer. She was lying on her side, displaying her naked body for the painter. He felt like being with her, but her feet were as heavy as rocks. A laugh came from nowhere and dark clouds covered everything.

Guillermo woke up with his heart in his hand. He was sweating, drooling, his breath escaping violently from his mouth until he exhaled loudly and calmed down. He suddenly got up from the floor and looked for another canvas to paint on.

A combination of fur, hair, shapely breasts, and lush buttocks took over his new creation. Guillermo had painted that woman perfectly; even her smile was identical, lying on that rock with that sensual pose that drove the painter crazy.

When he finished, he gasped with happiness. He stared at his painting for a minute until she winked at him. Guillermo was surprised and thought it was a product of mental fatigue, but he was wrong.

The woman's portrait escaped from the canvas and asked for Guillermo's hand. He thought he was in a dream and extended his arm towards her. She pulled him towards the painting and they were both portrayed in it. They were smiling in the same way, embracing body to body in a field of happiness.