Infernos in a needle

Just returned from the office, in an evening of 1.969 with drizzle, Jordi Camba walked to the bathroom with slow step


his tummy was slightly slimmed under the shirt, he looked at the mirror, and observed his pale-greenish face:

his respiration sounded as if he was sick.





A while later, after a warm shower, Jordi Camba prepared a black coffee, and trying to relax his abdominal membranes, took a look at the vinyl LP that he just bought at the record shop of Modes Querejeta, which was settled on the table of the kitchen, like a laminated futuristic and flat mural.






alpha: "9. pm, the stereophony of the asco"











Comfortably seated in the sofa, and listening to the black plastic and its gyration at 33 1/3 rpm, Jordi Camba noted something curious:

the coffee

the cup, yes, the cup of blue porcelain which Jordi Camba had in his right hand, it started getting hotter. 
In inverted process contrary to the nature, the coffee acquired a higher and higher temperature as the minutes went by?

Camba didn't believe in his dactylar sense
or didn't want to believe, and tried to forget the strange detail which, anyway, filled his cerebellum with a diaphanous light of horror:

in the exact second in which György Ligeti's "Lux Aeterna" started, the boiling point emerged in the cup

a burning jet of coffee in ebullition emanated from the recipiente de porcelana, scalding with furibund ardour the hands and genitalia of a Jordi Camba who was falling asleep with the music.




beta: "Too late for this voyage?"











Camba regressed from his numbness to the reality with a shout of pain, jumping from his sofa and falling on the pavement

intriguingly he didn't fall on the grey carpet of his room, but on a stony and brown ground:

waking up completely, he realized that he was outdoors, under a blue sky, on a prairie which was beating with the womb of the Earth as one


a meadow.