The end of the world is coming…

…..

Chapter VII: About the trenches and the multiplying tables

     Not so punctual, but close to noon, Antonio would also pass in front of the house every day. He was a tall, slender young man, and he had very dark skin, and coal black, wiry hair. He had this impressively powerful, deep baritone voice that he would use to shout out to the world:

     “The end of the world is coming! Pray, pray to the Virgin of Guadalupe! Sweet Mother, pray for us sinners…” Yet, the most amazing thing would occur when he burst out singing in that melodious voice he had. He would sing all these arias and fragments from various operas in their original languages. The street would fill with his powerful voice, as Grandmother smiled looking up from her book, and then she would think, “Good Lord it’s noon already!” Meanwhile, Antonio would walk by, past and down the street, his voice gently fading in the distance, and grandmother would close her book and rise from her seat, as if waking from a dream.

     One thing was for sure: once the interior door was closed and had cut off the reception from the house proper, then the sounds and the noise from the street would not pass through. With the main door closed to the outside world, the house was sheltered from those violent times that were lived in those days. My favorite spot, in that lovely old house, was the huge patio. It was all the way in the back of the house, with its coconut palm trees and the many-colored hammocks that stretched between them in the shade.

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