Altisidora
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by Ramón López Velarde In these days when people have been talking about Cervantes , Altisidora has come to my mind. I have smelled her enervating hair that poisons the darkness of the moonlit fullnight. And I have let myself be carried away by listening to the mezmerizing of her ukulele. Perhaps the pages that I like the most in Quixote, have been those that describe the Hidalgo's stay between the dukes; between the duke Maleante and the Propicia duqueza. You can hardly smell the garlic that hurt the nose, and the action glides along neatly and gleefully like a game of chess played in a large room overlooking to a garden. We lived in their house, mischief, cordiality and health. Let's not think about politics nor money. We are -as they say- at our ease. The aforementioned Altisidora pretends to be in love with Don Quixote. Courtship of glances glimpses, rancorous mudslinging, sweet-songs, complaints and agonies... All this against the knight. And a cat arrives in a fit of rapt...