the blinds said: ‘Who are you and where have you come from?’ they asked in a strange, old-fashioned Spanish that Nunez could just about understand. He told them he’d come over the mountains from the city of Bogota,1 and when they showed no sign of understanding, he explained that it was a large, modern city. ‘Everyone there can see,’ he added. He expected they would be impressed,2 or at least excited to meet a stranger from the world outside, but instead, the blind men shook their heads. ‘Nonsense,’ they muttered.3 ‘What is he talking about, ‘city’, ‘mountains’ and ‘see’? What kind of crazy talk is this? There are no such things.’ ‘He came out of the rocks,’ said another. Then they ran their hands over him, touching and feeling every inch of his body. ‘His skin is rough,’4 said one of them. ‘He’s a wild man.’ ‘Be careful, of my eyes,’ said Nunez, when their fingers reached his face. ‘There’s something wrong with him,’ said another. Nunez’s large moving eyes were something entirely new to them.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Dec 2014 09:11:00 +0000
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