21260721 Violet Me Them One Heart

8/6/2019 21260721 Violet Me Them One Heart

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First free edition.

Title:: Violet, me, them and one heart.

Autor: Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson.

Copyright: © 2009 Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson.www.mendaro-es.com

Cover & illustrations by: Miguel Ángel Mendaro Johnson.

All rights reserved. Material protected.

http://www.mendaro-es.com/





F or you.



1

I f I said that I was born on October 9 th, 1854; I will

probably draw myself in black and white.

Imagine then if I said that I’m not yet born, that it will happen onthe 47th of October of the year 1,230,824. I definitely would drawmyself with many, many colours. Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, trillions…



I’m an artist!

And I live just by and for her: Violet, my imagination.

She whispers to me. When that happens I write or open my metal box of crayons. There they are all placed: thirty-six pencils sorted

by colours.I've spent all night thinking about her. My one true love!I live in something like a bubble that isolates me under the sea,calm today. From down here I see the stars that have dropped to be cradled on the water’s surface. It is very beautiful and evenmore when she sings to me from the distance. But I can’t, Ishouldn’t!



Now I state: I was born the 47th of October of the year 1,230,824,and live in 1854; specifically as my diary confirms, I arrived the9th of October, when October had fewer days. And my duty is toobserve without interfering. But then she came... she… My one

true love!



2

G ive me a word and I will sow it, embrace it, and loveit. Together, let’s wait until it grows. Sooner rather than later, I’mconvinced that from that word will grow a small stalk. And later rather than early it will be a tree and we will obtain infinite and pure lyric.

The bucolic tree foliage that rocks beneath the ocean currents!

It’s not fantasy. That is what happened! She gave me a word that I planted in the deep sea floor. And I did it just for her, for me, andfor them.For all,

For you...



3

L ast night I saw a fisherman fishing. I was trying to fix acomplex problem that for some reason made my bubble ship notto respond properly. My mission was finished and I had to returnto my time!

The fact that the fisherman whistled with true devotion and deepfeeling helped me not to worry. But the question remained there:will I remain forever in this time? And if so, could I live or will Idie if my bubble failed?

But I remembered that I was an artist.

And that I had pictures.

That I also love writing. I still could not give up and resign myself to die! I wanted to live by and for her. Violet… My one true lo...



I stayed a long time looking and listening. His boat rocked in asea increasingly rough. He could not see me because my bubblecan disguise itself as does a cuttlefish. But it was when I lit a firewhen I really caught his attention.

I felt an uncontrollable desire to go up and explain that was possible, how we had mastered the art of submarine fire. But Iremembered: Do not interfere. And if he saw me, he woulddefinitely think that I am an alien from some other world... Andthat’s not true!!!

“Witchcraft!” He suddenly shouted.

I laughed so hard that he probably heard me because he leftquickly from there. But in less than an hour he returned withanother fisherman. Then another and another, and a priest!

I don’t know how to describe it, but their fascination (in a purplecolour) and their fear (in a yellow colour) were mixed together in

their looks of astonishment (giving an unbelievable extraordinarycolour).

I decided to put out my fire. But suddenly my bubble ship beganto rise uncontrollably. When it finally stopped it stayed static atthree feet above the sea level. For more complication, thecamouflage system did not respond.

So I was a helpless cuttlefish that had just broken the cardinalrule: do not interfere.



4

T here I was: levitating faced towards that group of villagers in a couple of boats. Nobody said anything and neither did I for caution. They seemed to have no fear at all, but hundredsof millions of billions of trillions of questions. And one of themventured to ask. The question came out of his mouth and flew tomy ears.“Who am I?” He asked.“Who am I? An artist!” I replied, and of course I showed themmy ideas, drawings; writings ... and that I had planted a seed inthe bottom of the seabed.

In that way I avoided answering the question. I could not tellthem in any way that I was one of them, a vulgar and “evolved”human being from the year 1,230,854 who escaped from the

future to seek inspiration in the past. A future so difficult tounderstand ... There one was prohibited from planting words!

They surprised me so much! Instead of starting a witch hunt, theylooked with fascination at my work.

” He is really an artist. May I ask you what did you planted down

there? What is it? What is it!” I replied: “ I planted the word that she gave me! Violet! My one

true love!”

“Who is your beloved, if you allow such a bold question?” “She is the one that allows me to fly, sing, dream...!”

“And what word did she give you! It must be a beautiful one...”

It is a gorgeous secret! ... A secret that we will flourish sooner

rather than later! Oh Violet, you did it!



5

D ays passed without seeing anyone again here. My bubble ship was repaired and returned to camouflage under water after answering all their questions. Now they know that I planteda word and that I’ll be leaving soon. Oh, my kind and poor guests! What have I done! In the century that I’m in now, they are

probably hanging from their necks in the square. Probablysentenced to death for telling illogical and stupid visions filledwith ridiculous ideas. What imprudence!

Why did all this happen?! I'm so selfish! And all this because Iwanted to see a word sprout!

Now I can only mourn.

She, my Violet, painted terrible pictures that I’m trying not todraw ... But...

What do I hear?

What do I see?

What!



6

D rifting glass bottles come to me with messagesinside. They did not die!They tell me with joy that they have chosen to remain silent andkeep my secret safe. Secretly, they share my feelings: Every nightthey dream with her, just like me! And they are intrigued to know

what word Violet gave me to plant.

I draw the answer because I am ... an artist!

* Heart in Spanish.

The word has sprung up this morning! I could not help it:Viewing an outbreak from the earth with the word “heart” mademe cry all the tears that were inside of me.She gave me the most beautiful word that a human being couldever imagine to plant.

This outbreak makes my journey worth it.It really does!



7

T he tree is so large that it shoots forth its branches above thewater surface. It is a majestic view. Fish sleep in it. The birds perch in its upper branches. Children swim from the coast and play among its branches and dive to the depths to see if they can

touch the bottom.

I joyfully cry from down here, invisible to them. Those who oncesaw me do cry when they see my occasional fires. We do this for



her, Violet! Our one true love! We're fascinated by the very ideathat one word could have sprung and grown just like this.

“This is the last fire.”

Every night the stars come down here all together and heat uswith their presence. They become musical notes. And when thetree sways either by wind or by a marine current thousand,millions, billions, trillions of letters fly away making verses highin the sky, deep under water, that go right into our hearts.

One single heart.

Her heart.My heart.Their heart.Yours…



8

V iolet, me, them and one heart.Its branches reach up to tickle the stars. Its falling leaves producenew born galaxies. The roots touch the heart of the universe.

Not even Violet could have drawn me such a great beauty.

I’m laughing and crying at the same time!Hey, and I do it in black and white.With the purest and deepest joy ever imaginable.



The end

Want to know more about my books?Visit my website: www.mendaro-es.com



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21260721 Violet Me Them One Heart

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