EPISODE V
“But she was disappointed, because he only said: Let me express my appreciation to the photographer and to the lady he has photographed.”
Pacta Sund Servanda; pacta quantumcumque nuda, servanda sund: Covenants are to be observed; even nude pacts are to be observed. .
Cali, Colombia, From January 4th to 14th 2018
Accompanied by her family and a close friend secretly in love with her, Valentina was celebrating the “Blancos y Negros Carnival” in Pasto, province of Nariño, lost amidst the human tide, watching the troupes in exhibition. Only when noise let her a chance and signal was not low, she answered WhatsApp messages from The Loser Titan. She was taking a nice rest, recovering from foot pain and from the typical hustle of side contractual events, which had invariably pushed her into music concerts and endless soirées, after her job hours at the Fair. Now an utter calmness streamed out of her cheeks.
The minute The Loser Titan set foot on Colombian soil, his serene appearance vanished. Still, from a neutral standpoint an external observer might say that the Colombian model and the Argentinian writer had set the grounds of mutual understanding: on his side assisted by a remarkable outbreak of madness; on hers by a cautious sympathy. What did Valentina on December 31st 2017 toast for? To better know The Loser Titan, although referred to him she asked God to prevent her from distractions, to help her cultivate the prudence of the wise. In gratitude to the new year unfolding, Valentina shared with the Loser Titan a selfie of her enjoying the Carnivals smeared with foam and wrapped up with a vertical bands ruana, the local black and white overcoat –widely known as poncho. Once taken a closer look at the picture, the Argentinian climbed a step higher, and then, as if he were plugged-in to the source of universal energy, he captured all of the hot winds available whilst he glanced at what he had left behind in the valleys.
Because university classes will re-open in February in addition to model fashion jobs being in and of itself seasonal (zero in January as a matter of fact), Valentina told the Loser Titan that she was going to postpone her return to Cali. Lying idly within family protection, caressed by the warmth of Pasto citizens, she showed the typical enthusiasm of those who make a wish list, upon which she gently rested.
Due to Valentina´s meeting pending status, The Loser Titan consecrated all of his spare time on being attentive to what was happening in the core of his uprooted personality, particularly when he headed out for –and overstayed at- the edge of sanity. However, most of his attention was placed on the large room created anytime the boundaries of his ordinary mind were traversed, since from that extreme, people, things, facts and events were perceived by him as a set of disruptive discharges driven into collapsed electrical fields. Actually, he wouldn´t have been able to explain to third parties the current state of affairs. In the wee hours of January fourth 2018 his personality experienced a crash and subsequent harsh transmutation, which gave rise to a revolt against the individuality in force, a condition his conscience could have never suspected of. All of a sudden a sensation of invincibility came upon The Loser Titan, who started to show off an unusual physical endurance. As a result of mind-resetting, an increase of acuteness enhanced his memory tracking, which ended up bringing to The Loser Titan´s mind huge amounts of [onetime] unavailable data. Despite he had no night rest, he kept an eagle-eyed vision and felt no need to sleep. These new repertoire was going to fuel an upheaval that would affect society as well as his body and soul. The latter, now inflamed, revealed itself as the very essence of The Loser Titan. “What a misfortune not to have counted on a spiritual master to guide me on the mysteries of re-conduction of the disruptive discharges I hosted.” –he later lamented. It goes without saying that madness had been controlled at the airport but could not be concealed post his return from Argentina; instead there had been a quantic leap, after which a sequence of facts, events and disjointed happenings blatantly burst out, to the bewilderment of The Loser Titan, who tried hard to decode them.
At the tail-end of an unforgettable cell phone communication The Loser Titan had held with Valentina on January third 2018 -during which he surrendered to her remote aroma-, he was glad to detect confidence in her voice together with a sip of shyness decorated –he imagined- by a strong blushing. Whoever prone to hold a conversation with Valentina would have enjoyed a phonetic peak of sweetness. After they hung up, it was revealed to The Loser Titan the end of the novel he was working on. The storyline of CÓLICO MISERERE, the piece in which he had been involved for a year and a half, touched the sometimes prickly topic of damage repair derived from faulty human behaviour. He got tired to see himself walking along a dead end road, consistently thwarted, incapable of getting out of the trap he was in, as each potential denouement he found did not meet his writer´s standard of satisfaction. To some extent he was lashing out in the dark. While surfing around the Bay of love, where he moved in circles thrilled at the modulation of Valentina´s voice, it came to his head a terrific novel end, far better from the ones he had being considering over the last months. If the truth be told, whatever the trigger of the solution was, it seemed to lie beyond reason, handiwork of self-inspiration. Intuition gathered the rock falls of weightlessness in such a neat way that an illustrious vision was born afterwards. Nevertheless, the conversation with Valentina did work as a strong direct incentive. Some might have framed this creative industry as a rapture of ecstasy.
The Loser Titan´s face blushed with outrage at dawn on January fourth 2018, when he resigned to the position of Financial Manager of Bio-Rasta, where he had rendered services for the last nine years. The consistent deployment of energy that was being channelled towards Valentina decreed a swift downturn back to his small office. As he was bad-mouthing his future ex-boss up and down, something compelled him to jump across the bridge to tune in to the Colombian model ´s wavelength. If his aim would consist of uncovering what it laid behind the scenes, not only should he manage to pass the bridge but also to raise his level of consciousness, the unique lane affordable in the hope to elucidate the happening of the airport. So, without further thought or any preventive reasoning, he took his feet off the brakes and ventured to wager everything on wining back his Temple of Jerusalem.
The carnival and Valentina finally split up on January tenth, when she went to her parents´ house.
On last December Valentina had decided to sign up for a modelling fashion academy. The beginning of the course was scheduled by mid-January. She was eager to appropriate the tricks of the trade. Her expectations on the learning exceeded the average, as she won´t be satisfied until she would be propelled to stardom. In every field of knowledge Valentina put her nose into, she has always endeavoured to broaden frontiers of any kind, in this sense the Colombian market would be bound to serve her just as a springboard to jump over new challenges. In the academy she shall be taught the most appealing techniques of hips swinging, more effective ways to engage with the audience, to tilt her head back and lift the chin acting arrogance out of it. She thought that only those models who mechanize waving movements, those who excel at making their gestures fiercely suggestive, only them shall attain the élite and enjoy prestige. In the meantime the public is thankful to be given a space where its eyes can undertake a visual commitment that goes beyond words. Valentina was the first to admit she should show herself more charging, for she still lacked the required tender aggressiveness to thrive on fashion modelling. No one had to tell her that she needed to build an overwhelming on-stage personality so as to get to the top. Taking into account her goal-directed personality, she found herself poaching in the persecution of a hunting trophy: standing out over all other colleagues’ models nearby. It was nonsense however, for she knew -from the backstage of her sentient being- that there was no use to forge a competition against them, given the fact that Mother Nature had been very indulgent with her. In a nutshell, Valentina´s inherited values, her [on purpose] smug-humbled look together with her way of interacting in the battle camp, had caused on The Loser Titan the best impressions possible, keystone to priceless contributions for the sake of settling her down in the fascinating world of fashion, performing art and art happening.
On January twelfth Valentina received an invitation from The Loser Titan to meet on January fourteenth, they agreed on him fetching her after her class in the academy. “The accepted proposal was, however, –she warned-, subject to confirmation.”
Valentina did go to that class, but then she came straight back home, restraining her from calling The Loser Titan to pick her up. Tentacular doubts raised on her as the Argentinian brimful dialectics refreshed her ancient anguishes: What might have happened to him? –Valentina tried to guess it, in the middle of the dark. A wave of fear seized her, experiencing a kind of on-stage fright unconceivable when she walked down a catwalk. A set of emotions came bubbling up out of nowhere: firstly, she was concerned on The Loser Titan´s short height; age and baldness emerged as matters not difficult to overcome nonetheless, since she loved middle-aged men. Then, she failed to make up her mind on whether her initial will to meet The Loser Titan again was based on intrigue, interest, curiosity or attraction, the four likable degrees of intimacy of people in the process of knowing each other. She lacked of clarity in this regard. All in all, by the time she had gone to bed on January thirteenth after a long meditation on next day´s date, a famous proverb jumped over her head: “If it squeaks, chase it; if it barks, flee from it.” That was her father permanent advice. Therefore, she became alert and remixed the first impression The Loser Titan inspired her at the airport, with a hint of mistrust. In any situation, Valentina tended to reach balance by applying the law of fairness, harsh reality told her, though, that the Argentinian subverted everything that had to do with maintenance of equilibrium. From now on she would remain watchful on him and his behaviour.
Even if she would go against her self-imposed caution, Valentina encouraged The Loser Titan to open an Instagram account so that he could take a look at her photo book production: she had an inkling that he couldn´t wait to see them. “Admit it, you can´t help it” –she teased him with tenderness. No sooner said than done, because not long after The Loser Titan opened it he started to go through the albums; the pictures of her wearing different garments and costumes prompted him to a hard landing on the inscrutable depths of his Being. He thereby became an enchanted man peering out into a sequence of photos with his eyes wide-open, in the midst of heart claims in eruption. Each picture seemed to inflict him a fatal blow. Like a straggler, The Loser Titan entered a labyrinth along which he meandered in slow motion, wandering about convinced there was no easy way out. As a matter of fact, it was easy for Valentina to gauge the impact that becoming her Instagram follower would have on The Loser Titan. In making him one of them a challenge was implicit, she was summoning him up to fight a duel in order for her to measure how far his interest in her could lead him to. “Was he really as audacious as to prosecute and persist until the ultimate consequences?” –she wondered. Other than displaying an everyday larger list of Instagram fans, Valentina expected, above all, The Loser Titan´s opinion about her beautifulness. By means of a subliminal demand, she intended to force him a declaration on the subject. But she was disappointed, because he only said:
- Let me express my appreciation to the photographer and to the lady he has photographed.
- Thank you –she replied with reticence, trying to conceal her disappointment.
The vital energy of The Loser Titan –apparently disengaged from shallow photographic aesthetics – scattered into The Ether, once there it gave an unexpected turn heading for a dark hole. Utterly dispossessed, The Loser Titan knew that he will never be the same again.
