Con Rumbo al Abra

 

Waiting more than three lives, waiting 5 lives; seated on a throne made of tortas fritas, milk and time.

And the throne moves, transporting the personage toward unknown skies, as his blood is shaken by the electricity of the mountain.

As his eyes are shaken chinesely.

The elder behemoth spends eternities caressed by the essential oils of the wind, as he sleeps the oxygenated nights away, far from the Hall of the Mountain Grill, where he was born.

Is this the King King from the myth?

Or he's just the King of the Ocean: Fideos?

Waiting more than three lives, waiting forever. Seated on a throne made of medialunas de manteca, this monarch with hypercalcemia travels through the airs of San Luis Obispo: the arduous mountain climbing years of that other Zarathustra.

Is this that Feverish Salamander?..