"Maybe, somewhere, someday, at a less miserable time,
we can see each other again "
-Vladimir Nabokov 'lolita'
Through the streets of Bogotá,
Through which thousands of people pass,
There was an innocent and somewhat naive girl
And a man who never stopped fantasizing about her.
It was a hot afternoon
The sweat of people going down their forheads,
The sun was shining through the blue sky,
The clouds floating quietly.
People walked from one side to the other
Self-absorbed in their lives
And between them there was a lady
With a weary face and a blurred look
She kept asking
If someone had seen his beloved daughter.
Through the streets of Bogotá
A few streets further from where the lady was
The girl ran across the street,
Her imagination flying,
The people ignoring her
While she happily got away with it.
What she did not know
It was that in an alley not far from where she was
In the middle of walls and dirt
There was a strange man
With tangled hair and elegant clothes
Whose black eyes sunk into his bony face.
They were staring in the direction of the girl
Without her seeing him.
He spent his days imagining,
Imagining what I would do once he had her
When that little girl who ran alone
Through the streets of Bogotá
I was finally in his arms.
Several minutes passed
In middle of a silent contemplation
Before the girl, completely distracted
It was within his reach
With a bizarre smile and a sweet in his hand
He went out to meet the girl.
Calling her by name
He told her to come with him
That his mother, worried and crying,
Was looking for her everywhere.
That she had to go fast,
That her mother was at the police station.
Upon hearing this the girl, with visible concern,
He asked the man
If he was serious
And he, with a macabre smile, answered
"I would never lie to you, darling."
And with this, he gave his hand
And she strongly held on.
A few streets from where they were
The mother was still screaming desperately
Looking repeatedly from one side to the other
Without knowing clearly now what to do
In the middle of the crowd that summer day
He just sat on the brick floor
And began to sob.
He cried silently, thin tears falling down his face,
Regretting not having been more attentive,
Regretting not taking care of her daughter,
For having let her run away,
And losing sight of her.
But, worse than all that,
For knowing with bitter regret
That no matter what she did in those moments
She would not be able to get his daughter back in time.
So she just cried while the police
That, with a surprising resentment
Apparently against her
For not having been "pending" of his daughter,
They were looking through the streets
Some trace that she could have left.
Meanwhile, already several blocks from that place,
The man had taken the girl
Telling her again and again that they were about to arrive
While on his lap he carried
both a revolver and a couple of condoms
And, with a wince on his lips,
He led her silently to his apartment,
In the middle of the streets of Bogotá
Among which nobody can hear you scream.