The science of the soil

The science of the soil - student project

Exercise 1 # (Sensory Detail)

 

The science of the soil

 

In the beginning it was warm and nice. Generous let itself decodify in each molecule, that united, turned it into almost sweet, slow, returning to me through the taste buds. It reminded me of the sweet and sour taste of the mandarin sauce in the spring roll we ate in Chinatown in that full Saturday, rushed by the desire of shopping of aunt Brigitte. It was around the edges that something salty got accustomed to the sweetness. I sipped the blood that ran down the knees as a way of denying my sister the coward gesture of solidarity that the eldest cherished in the memories of the fragile days. I didn’t want her to be nagging, from her 10 years old, with the velocity I absently threw myself and my bike right in the center of the pointy teeth of the briars and in the mount of bricks that formed there a little wall.

Not even if she kept it in her memory. I was greedy from the beginning with the story that others would tell of me. I denied her the vision of blood as someone who cherishes a prudent future. I smothered part of the hiccup and dried the tears from my face. I got up ready after the last licking of the knee, cleaning the dirt that itched. I primed up still on the bike’s saddle like someone that, by trying it for the first time the science of the soil, on her feet insists on the next ride. I yelled ‘it’s fine’ on an early test of independence that at each fall would revisit, with more or less success, in the new days.

 

Exercise 2 # (Unexpected Detail)

 

Summer

 

A light tremor inaugurated that memory in me. It was June and the afternoon made of a tired sun gave me space to be unsuspecting like all others. I was sitting in the terrace almost with my feet on the sand and with the eyes on the castle that two flustered and gangly children were trying to create with too much water to give it consistency and lack of enough patience to build something that looks like a castle indeed. And then the same sensation that involuntarily made my skin crawl. Nothing special. Not even particularly unknown. Only a way of courting the decadence of a summer that became more identical through the years: the same pale sun, the same faces of reencounters, thin of life between choosing the cheapest brand of beer, a place with parsimonious shadow to install the sun umbrella, the time of the return to the house, choose something to watch on TV and the expensive menu of mercury luminous fish. I sinked even more on the chair and tried, stretching hard, to reach the sand with my toes. Without any particular goal. Only  a necessity that time was finally renewed with the closing of the day. Nothing more than the banality blew in the direction of the sea. It was when, inattentive I reached the discovery through my feet, and uncapable of diving completely, horrified I screamed my finding: They’re bones! Human bones under the sand. Divided between digging for the answer and running away to the safe stagnation of doubt, I waited for strangers to approach and offer me a cup of water, pull the table and ask me for permission to remove the plastic chair where I was sitting. Standing up, but motionless I witnessed the scene of agitated curious people that whispered between them. I made a gesture and in the middle of the fuss, I raised voice and body to ask if anyone had called the police, any authority. A mass-like silence was installed immediately. The mother of the impatient children threw more water on the castle and dragged her children and sun umbrella far away. A shhhhhhhh went through the mouths. I insisted. Human bones aren’t a superfluous detail, even nowadays. A shrug was added to the silence. An unknown hand touched my arm softly and included in my hands the bag with a book, sunscreen, lip balm, sunglasses and a pair of clean and dry underwear, besides the apple. Someone whispered it was late and I needed to go. ‘Goodnight’, ‘Don't worry’, some whispers made their way to me, while delicately I was escorted by unheard hands to far from the edge, from the sand and the bones, to the next day.