How To Dye. Lacrosse Head Blue

The thief of melodies (X)

Walking on the sand for hours, ignoring the remaining distance to go and the only company of a quiet giant of six feet and Mohican haircut can be a morbid monotony. I had arrived at the agreed time, with a book under his arm and a pen in his pocket. The sky was kept warm and the sun barely crept. But at noon we continued along the cliff. The sea was uniform along the wall and had lost all distinctive feature. I could not even know exactly how long we had been walking, then I had seized the giant clock as soon as I saw appear among surfers. He was very thirst, had reached a point where I simply shuffling, barely lifting and the sun, loud and clear in the center of heaven, I caused a growing headache. Despite my constant complaints, only received an answer from my mysterious companion, always ahead of me, and not even turning his head to answer me.

-Be patient.

When thirst, sore feet and head hit by the sun have become almost a habit, a small gap in the rock, after miles of cliff uniform can be an extraordinary revelation and exciting. I would not even noticed the small hole if not for the giant stopped for the first time all morning, and pointed with his finger. At first the crack was almost imperceptible, and could pass for a casual darkening of the rocks. Had to look very well for them. And it was necessary to have much faith to believe that a man could be crossed.

"From this moment you have an hour. Have your watch.
"One moment. It is impossible to enter. It is too narrow.
"Try not very difficult.
"I can get caught.
-Yourself. If you want, we leave. Moody

while growled and swore, I fit into the tiny hole and tried to pass. For a moment I seemed to be jammed down my chest for the rocks, but after a desperate effort I managed to fall into a larger space.

The light coming through the crack. Was inside the rock. It smelled musty and the echo transformed each of my steps in dozens more. I followed a narrow natural corridor and once at the bottom, right, I could make the rungs of a ladder ascending stone, very short and sloping. There was no other way out, so I started uploading them leaning on the wall convex shapes descalabrarían me if bumped.

After several minutes, I started to get scared. I had to find and in a very high relative to the crack through which he had entered, and the light had gone off until I was almost dark. While climbing, ensuring strong foot in the tiny steps, I could not understand how he was so naive, and why I had so easily in the hands of those types that such a moment could make me what I wanted. But my claustrophobia sent when I noticed that the stairs began to reflect light rays thin gradually became thicker. I can never

transmit the current of emotion that swept over me once on top, when I reached the entrance of the light coming from, so I will just describe as accurately as possible what appeared before me. First, the blue sky was occupied by all, and under the sea was quiet and caressed by a gentle wind. I approached the broken rock, which gave birth to the rest of the site and surroundings. The irregularity of outline indicating it had been opened as a result of natural evolution, or perhaps for those works already undertaken decades ago that I had spoken to the director of the guardians of the temple. I ducked because I felt dizzy, but in the sand many feet away, I spotted the giant figure of the Mohicans, sitting and facing the sea, very small from where I was.

Then I noticed the ground. From the moment you enter, my shoes were no longer touch the stone steps. All surface, a thin layer of sand was completely covered with bay leaves, which rose to the slightest movement. In fact, the air was perfumed with the laurel and the fresh and salt from the sea. It would have been a great pleasure to sit on the mantle of leaves and watch the sea from there, or close your eyes and go slowly falling asleep with the murmur of the sea and sheltered by the south wind.

I forced myself to think about what really was there. Although I saw it from the beginning, I'd been to be reserved for the end the feeling of having before me, finally, what I was looking for so many years. In the center of this room was a stone pulpit, facing the sea and surrounded by Doric columns that were born on the floor and the capitals of which seemed to naturally adhere to the rocky ceiling. I looked at my watch. He had already spent a quarter of an hour.

I got on the pulpit. In front of me had a glass screen covering a papyrus deployed and imposing, almost a meter wide and half as long. Was filled circles very small, each with a color and a musical note in classical Greek writing-sometimes two or even three-contained within. The circles communicated with each other, and were joined by straight lines of blue. In short, the picture was much more simple than I imagined countless times.

In fact, I understood the mechanism easily. Disappeared instantly any kind of fear that might have saved on my ability to decipher the scroll, despite my mastery of classical musical forms. Then fell in a trance from which I recovered three quarters of an hour later, when the time had completed and my notebook was full of notes. Before leaving the temple I last looked at the papyrus, and had not ceased to remember when returning by plane to Barcelona, \u200b\u200bexcited and anxious to get down to work.

had reviewed only a small part of the circumference of the papyrus. To use, simply start at one and make an arbitrary path for the rest, along the lines of the two companies, one after another. So is getting a tune. Instead, look for something more complex, you could follow a sequence of circles and then start a new one located beyond other circles. In this case the result would be a chorus to the bridge, ie ascending notes that culminate in the climax (the chorus) in a natural and balanced, or perhaps two melodies are linked. Although these differences did not matter too much. After all, everything could be reduced to the pleasure of the extraction of beauty.

During the return trip not only thought of the great record at hand, but figured again and again possessed the papyrus, which could have him forever, enjoy the music of the gods to lose reason, and then transcribe it in the form of pop songs that would become known to the world.

CONTINUE

Mysore Mallige Virus Free

The thief of melodies (IX)

went into the house and moving into a carpeted hallway. On one wall hung a picture, almost completely occupying, which showed a sea and something like a luminous ball. We climbed the stairs and reached the second floor.

All the windows were open. The floor, white tile, bright, picked up the last rays of the sun. We arrived at an office. The door was open.

-Between, "said my companion unknown and silent, before leaving.

Behind the table, a man with obvious overweight, gray-haired and wearing a short sleeve shirt with red stripes, I watched through his glasses excessive eccentric pasta model that occupied the half of the face. I was expecting, and seemed very calm. His hands on each other.

"Good morning, Mr. Alexander.

"Hello, how do you know my name? What am I doing here?

"You know very well what he does. Has spent years looking for the temple of Apollo and finally found it. No need to disguise, we know each of his movements and there is no room for doubt.

His voice was so slow and absent of any aggressive undertone that I stopped being tense. The window at the side of the room was open and let in air with the smell of pine fresh wind and salt and chlorine in swimming pools.

"I'll be as brief as possible, but there are some things you should know. First, I have to say that I speak on behalf of a company dedicated to save the temple of Apollo. At the moment, I am the director, though I can not say my name. We have many active years, thousands of centuries. Arguably manage the use made of papyrus. Understand that the magnitude of secrecy requires maximum discretion.

got up and started walking to either side of the table, hands clasped behind his back.

"As I said, do not cease for centuries in our surveillance activities, which includes both church detect seekers around the planet and keep its location secret and preserve the papyrus. Yet, until recently we did not watch anything really concrete. Previously, we knew roughly where the temple should be. In the early fifties someone carried out a series of works in the rock that you have seen this afternoon. Collapsed some rocks and, to the surprise of the workers, did the Temple of Apollo in ancient hiding. Immediately we ensure that the secret will not be shared, and we had to plan new strategies for surveillance.

He paused in front of the window, looking outside. Her back was to me, but kept talking.

"The temple remained intact. It seemed straight out of antiquity. And it included the papyrus, also perfectly preserved. All this caused within our organization many controversies. Ideas about very different types. Some were in favor of burning the papyrus. Others spoke of the need for disclosure was all mankind. We conclude that this source of superhuman beauty could not remain only in our hands. Was the only point we started to move away from the traditional roots of our society, which only refer to surveillance. Somehow, we wanted to leave benefit humanity. This is why you are now here. However, their mass reproduction could only lead to chaos and confusion. Suddenly lead to any the world to a new state of consciousness, with no progression and time to time, would create a risk of unexpected consequences for the human species

- What do you mean that I owe my presence here at this turning point?

-A finally opted for a compromise. Humankind would benefit from the discovery, but little by little, over the centuries. It would be possible to access the papyrus, but only those who would do what they were looking for. We know all the sources from which the classics tracks hid. We have developed enough to detect people who are handling this kind of issues and submit monitored until they are convinced they have discovered the secret.

- And then?

He sat back behind his desk.

"Then, this person deserves access to papyrus. But keep in mind that there are a number of restrictions.

opened a desk drawer, which removed a blue sheet with several points. I quickly became clear the rules of society:

1 - Do not disclose the secret.

2 - Do not exceed the time allowed.

3 - No access papyrus without permission.

4 - Respect the decisions of use of society.

"The first point is simple," he said. It is even common sense, because it understands that the less people know the secret, you'll benefit more than they can get. The second point is not too much trouble. You will be assigned a specific time of contact with the papyrus, and under no circumstances exceed it. The third is simple. And the last is indisputable. I mean, we decide to use you will make the papyrus: how long you can browse and times will return.

- Are limited? "On what basis to decide?

-In areas that we reserve. But keep in mind that we calculate everything and that decisions are never arbitrary. Simply put, if you say it will not be able to return, be limited to no return. Maybe with luck, over the years, be allowed access again.

- Used by many people?

"Since the fifties, a total of thirty people, including active, ie they can re-use, and inactive, which currently have no access again. Not everyone has taken advantage of the same, but I assure you the best musicians have passed through the temple.

- What?

-Understand that I can tell.

However, in my head and venture opportunities. Brian Wilson manipulated the papyrus and wrote the songs that become the most important author of pop. Arthur Lee appeared in the trial with a handful of songs formidable and justified it as an outburst of inspiration fostered by the presentiment of his own death. Burt Bacharach used to talk about musical complexity needed in a good composition, but limited themselves to interpret the codes extracted from the papyrus.

This man rose from his seat surprising agility for his size, and accompanied me to the office door.

"You should be tomorrow morning at ten in the same place on the beach where you have seen the guards.

- Baywatch? You mean all the surfers? Are they members of society?

"Yes." And another thing. I hope you know the classic musical notations.

"I am an expert.

He held out his hand.

"Wait, how long will it be?

-Lo you know tomorrow. Do not worry, and consider yourself lucky. Good afternoon.

Upon leaving the hall carpeting paid more attention to the box occupied by the wall. The luminous ball resting on a car with horses tied around it. The sea reflected the sky looked like the dawn, orange, red more vivid and the closer was on the ball. In one corner, lying on the sand, a man draw circular shapes on paper.

CONTINUE

Bannedstory Backgrounds Wedding

The thief of melodies (VIII)

The plane ride seemed eternal. Was eager to see materialized my effort. And soon I reached the place that reflected the map. It was one of the most isolated beaches of the state. Around some nuclei only extended residential housing, and the rest was occupied by dry, sandy areas. Luckily, I found a group of bungalows relatively close to the area I would try to find the temple.

To reach the shore, it was necessary to descend a steep dirt road that seemed to never end. Sometimes I had to move away to let trucks with surfboards in tow or attached to the ceiling, most decorated with palm leaves. To my right was growing a rock wall. On the left, a row of pine trees punctuated by some bushes, mingled its aroma in the salty air. The road turned subtly to the right. The wind, cooler ever was a sign that the beach was near.

From below, the show was amazing. The beach stretched toward the bottom, separated about five hundred meters from a rock wall. The sea sparkles in the sun emitted in the afternoon, but broke the bank in large waves. The wind blew hard. Swimmers left spoke in circles or hang straight in their towels. Sometimes, the waves emerged the figure of a surfer on his board. Every so often someone took a table in her arms and slid over the edge, taking advantage of a lull. The rest was waiting beside the truck, parked near the rocks, and surfboards scattered on the sand or in vehicles supported.

I started to walk along the beach. I've never been too sensitive, but he passed groups of surfers gave me the impression that their eyes stuck on me. Sometimes applauded the dangerous antics of one of them on the waves. If you were nearby, applauded too, trying to cover for others the feeling of intrusion that assaulted me.

Gradually left behind. The beach was deserted. The place had to be close. My eyes never a moment of rocks, looking for any indication uniformity throughout the temple.
not remember how long I was walking. Maybe an hour, in absolute solitude. So I got scared when he saw a figure stretched out from behind a rock, several meters in front of me and was coming toward me.

It measured about two feet and wearing a tiny swimsuit. His skin was tanned. Was rather thin, but perfectly defined muscles. His haircut looked like a mohawk, shaved on top of the skull and long blond on the sides. Despite this impressive picture, his eyes blue and clear and gentle eyes, I calmed down.

- Can wait a moment with me, please?

His voice was deep and safe.

I have no time.
"We know what you are looking for. Do not bother, you've found. But first you have to follow the steps.

had no choice. I did not look capable of dealing with this giant educated, but his last words bothered me. My mind floated in a daze, waiting for an explanation to give meaning to the situation where I was.

heard the rumble of a motor from the side of the beach that had traveled. The giant folded his arms and stared in the direction from which came the noise. Within minutes came one of those trucks decorated with palm leaves.

-Get into the back. I thought

run, but had no chance to escape. I climbed into the van. The driver was a muscular man with long blond hair. His simple attire consisted of shorts and sandals. He turned and walked the beach in the opposite direction. We went back to pass by groups of surfers and climbed the hill leading to the beach.

- Can you tell me where to go?

took a few seconds to respond.

-No.

Half an hour later I was accompanied by the entry of a two-story house, extensive gardens and where the white color of the walls began to fade by late afternoon. We went through a pool where two young men, lying on mats and cocktail glasses in hand, chatting and smiling. We looked to pass, nor did the exuberant blonde woman was out of water in a bikini and lying in a hammock, painting her toenails. CONTINUE

How To Convert A Trustee Deed To Warranty Deed?

The thief of melodies (VII)

My reading made me an expert on classical mythology, but never heard anything like it. Impressed by this legend, I got angry not understanding what it meant to the bottom of the manuscript. I chose being careful not to disclose my findings, and did well because I soon realized that those words indecipherable pointed out, in fact, parts of works of antiquity.

A total of ten plays, with a brief explanation next to each one of them who should be granted, as it was made up of disjointed sentences and incomprehensible at first glance. Finally, I realized that this explanation could refer to the fragment of the work that interested him the wise monk noted. One of the works was precisely the Ovid's Metamorphoses, and hence, I suppose, that the manuscript found inside this book. The explanation was made, among others, in these words: "Apollo", "Jacinto," "flower", "no shame", all in Latin. Fascinated, I read with care the work and underlined the words that coincide with these annotations. I am disheartened to see that many parts of the book were underlined with no apparent criteria. So I decided to look for on those places in which these words appear near one another. After a selection, I selected four possible paragraphs, which dismissed two insignificant. At the end I chose the one which showed a geographic location, I pointed to a map.

I knew I had to do the same with all the books contained in the manuscript. None of them was as easy as the first work. Many times I wondered if I was doing had any meaning or was it a childish waste of time. He encouraged me that was always part of the text where the words matched those were more or less close and included a specific location on the map, who came to scoring.

I realized the secret that could contain this manuscript, the exact spot where the stranger was hidden temple of Apollo. The possibility of being in the right way pushed me not to give in my effort. Gradually the map contained more locate points. But it was not easy. Often had multiple points for a single work because more than one paragraph was proximity between the words identified and included a location. Furthermore, there was really old editions of certain works that, therefore, might have come to the modern version modified or references other than the monk had used an informer.

was very hard work and I had to invest time and money. I became a regular at the auctions of libraries, cartographic conventions and conferences on ancient languages. And I was obliged to be quick, because any other person could have reached the secret. I imagined many times I had in my hands the papyrus of Apollo and that he drew endless songs that I turned into the best musician possible, in a heavenly melody maker allow people to embrace the secrets of the gods.

I dismissed hundreds of maps inadequate. He hoped that, following consultations with the works and set points, the union of all of them converge on a central point to show the location of the temple of Apollo. According to legend, should be a beach. And often I found absurd situations: points in the ocean or the North Pole. In addition, he was sure he did not have the right edition of at least four of the works and that four of the points, in all likelihood, they were wrong. When you and I met, I was in a state of despair and blocking.

saw the light through a book dealer I got what I needed, yes, by a fairly exaggerated price. I was so blinded by my objective means I did not notice. The four hardcover books had a chance to see very old-issues, worthy of any major museum, and certainly stolen, were the last keys missing from the puzzle.

During those days, just out of my room and slept no more one or two hours. After reviewing the four volumes, to identify some important errors of translation of modern editions and set several new items to order more, I managed, through the intersection of all the points resulted from those years of searching, a site quite possible and plausible: namely in one of the beaches of California. I concluded that although the monk that these codes can not be camouflaged place for historical logic, see the new world should be aware of a legendary place located on our planet and then be revealed as the American continent. CONTINUE

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Wilsonesque

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A very great collection of songs that are modeled on the genius among geniuses, and invaluable source of surprising discovery groups.

In short, the seventh installment of The thief of melodies.

Datsun Convertible Suv

The thief of melodies (VI)

Here begins the second part of the story, which I am no longer responsible. So far I have explained what I can assure you as true and all you can see, even despite its moments of mystery is not without logic within the world in which we live. What comes next will fill the gaps in the story I have told, but from a highly questionable or even deluded.


Letter Alejandro Navas


Excuse me, but I have to ask you to believe all that I am about to tell you. The easiest thing is that when you read this, I'm gone. Right now I have fear and I feel that my end is near. Believed that I could pass something, but never ended up taking it seriously. I had only seen the kind of mystery. I write these words quickly. I hope at least give me time. I would not want everything I know cut me off. Will be hard to give me some credit, but at least give me the benefit of the doubt.

What you know about me is lies. I have never studied classical literature. For me there has never been anything else but music. Before my trip to California, had spent many years composing. After my first failure, I thought that sooner or later make it. The practice and experience lead me to my goal, which was nothing to write at least one good song. It is hard to see how, after countless attempts, the only remaining evidence is the lack of talent. Not discouraged me soon. The passage of time made me aware that I would never anything. The music world was not for me, at least as a participant.

voluble Any other person would have accepted his failure with no more and would have spent otherwise. I was not looking for other implementation. I like music too. I was stubborn in my disappointment. He could not speak of my best or worst songs, but in any case the least bad. This is hard when you want to be somebody, when you want to use art to discover hidden truths of humanity. Pop songs contain untold secrets, silent but vibrant. I just wanted to move with my songs.

Besides music, everything else I've always taken it as a hobby. Even the rest of the art. My father caught the taste for classical literature. But I ended up deriving this knowledge toward the end that really interested me.

my father's library was extensive, full of dusty editions of ancient manuscripts, usually purchased at a great price in street markets. There was not much rhyme or criteria, so it was sometimes possible to find something of value from a large number of papers that were useless. Before the age of twenty years, spent all afternoon searching the shelves, as a treasure hunter. Examined the text and away the most important posed, or that I think stood out from the rest. My training was about zero, so that often only separated those who were marked with a date very old or those whose content was unique or interesting to me. From time to time I bothered to take them to price and sell used when the benefit was reasonable.

Only once did not sell a manuscript he was absolutely certain value. Because that was when there was a connection to the world that focused my real obsessions: music. He had discovered by chance while leafing through an issue of the seventeenth century Metamorphoses of Ovid. Among its pages, brown paper appeared fragile, cracked by a margin and full of Latin words, but perfectly legible despite the medieval calligraphy. The letter was concentrated, as if its author had wanted to maximize the space available. The Roman numerals appearing at the end of the paper indicated that it was written in 1400 seven.

The manuscript is divided into two parts. Paragraph at the top was perfectly understandable. A small caption explaining that until then I had no news. A little further down a number of references were lined up one after another. At first not understood, because it followed a logical syntactic order.

As I began to understand what was said in that brown paper, I was absorbed in a fascinating and fully occupied me ever since. I guessed that its author had been a monk, a connoisseur of hidden and missing sources for the currency. After realizing, over time, that all fit as related in the manuscript, I walked away from any tendency to consider this quest as a game or entertainment.

Apollo, the god of music in Greek and Roman mythology, but also of poetry, medicine and light, was challenged by the shepherd Marsyas in a musical duel. The judges of this struggle were the inhabitants of the town of Nyssa. Sounds awesome drew Marsyas of his flute, but the song of Apollo did in the public cause lasting tears of emotion.

Never mind that Apollo, in revenge for the affront, decided to flay Marsyas at the top of a tree. What is really interesting, and this is where most do not reach the myths is that Apollo, banished by his cruel behavior to the pastor, decided to take the time in a particular work of art. Point of all, on an unknown beach, decided to draw up a table setting out all the secrets of the universe. And it used the code I knew best: music. The table was recorded in a papyrus contain the final symphony, a receptacle Beauty immortal soul and intoxicate all people closer to the greatness of the gods. Apollo

returned from exile, but after much thought, and the calmer mood, decided not to put that body of knowledge available to the narrow limits of human. However, proud of his creation, did not dare to destroy it. In an unknown location in the beach where he had spent those years of solitude, he built a temple where he laid the papyrus. To ensure that no one would agree to those secrets, put the temple and the papyrus under the supervision of his best disciples. Apollo returned to Olympus, where he again was responsible for transporting the sun in your car every day. CONTINUE

Linsey Dawn Do Not Use

The thief of melodies (V)

I went back to Alexander with the bags one afternoon in early August, a year after his first march. Went back to California. Nowhere, as I said, you might be better to start writing. Needed to be isolated, away from interviews and concerts. Magazines and said his new work appear in September. And he had not written a single song.

Two months after the final change took place. Alexander did not appear. But it simply did not return to our apartment, where his presence and was quite casual, though still paying the bills. On the contrary, everyone disappeared. The news spread fast and led to much speculation. I kept reading the newspaper for further information on the case.

At the same time, almost inadvertently, I met a number of very disturbing news in the turmoil of those days.

"We decided to leave. We are not inspired and not leave things to us. You'd better each go his way. I have not achieve anything good. "

The phrase is taken from an interview where the California group Gigolo Aunts, so unexpected, and year after the publication of a great album - Pacific Ocean Blues - perfect songs full of beauty and melancholy, announced their separation. The news caught by surprise to those that saw a group that would be far reaching in the years ahead.

"I'm too old. Sometimes I can not understand how I could create all these songs. It seems as if they were foreign to me, since I'm writing mode like. I prefer to be honest, so I will not write more. "

This statement was accompanied by a photograph of Burt Bacharach, looking pensive and bitter white under his bangs. One of the greatest architects of carats and pop tunes full of emotion Perfect declared out of play after so many years. His work remained, but the audience was definitely helpless.

And finally:

"I'm lost. I do not know who I was. I think I managed to find the secret, and that's fine, I have very good songs. I've come far. Now I need to focus and forget everything. I enjoyed the pop and have ennobled me as possible. I used to think that the songs were a way of talking to God. Better give it up when you are unable to communicate anything. "

I heard on TV In an interview in which Brian Wilson appeared with an amused expression that characterized him since he had begun to leave their mental mazes. He said these words casually, almost irresponsible. I imagined the effect this statement would have had on Alejandro Navas, and then I realized he was gone for music. She was a victim of the virus that relentlessly besieged pop.

My confusion was maintained long enough for me to prove impossible to find an explanation beyond the casualties. I felt like the worshiper of a god whose worship was disappearing and whose followers were killed and were extinction.

Police made several visits me, but I could not help anything. Knew Alejandro's second trip to California and, moreover, satisfied that he had returned and had rented an apartment, also at the center of the city.

Shortly thereafter I received a letter. The envelope was too small for content hosting: several sheets folded to maximum compression and the unmistakable hastily written letter of Alexander. When I finished reading it, I thought that perhaps should have said the officers my doubts about the mental health of my partner. CONTINUE

Apple Cider Vinegar Cervical Mucus

The thief of melodies (IV)

had lost sight of Alexander for a little over a month, and now I was strange to find in a state of mind that unusual in it. He rose from the sofa and walked to his room. Changed the music.

- How about in California?
"Good, I think is the best place in the world. He slept in a bungalow near the beach. You can not even imagine the beauty of that sea. I felt very inspired, I started writing many songs. I filled an entire book. And you know I did when I arrived here?

I sat on another couch, still confused.

-Me struggled and rented a studio for hours. I recorded a demo and I'm sure some company will buy me. They are the best twelve songs I've ever made.

I could not be more skeptical of his words. Until then, his talent had given me too much evidence of its limits. But I liked the song I was listening. The chorus, beautiful and energetic, flowing over a delicate string arrangements that thrilled with amazing accuracy. The rest of the song is molds perfectly to the climax, but with originality and balance. And there could be no better voice to sing, even though they had never heard in other contexts not be a set of chords sounds quaint or dull and coupled with a shoehorn.

- Are any version?
"Do not underestimate. Do you think a pop fanatic like you would not recognize a version of a song so good?

Throughout the night I heard several times their model, without leaving my amazement. Alejandro Navas had created a brilliant pop album. For forty minutes, the twelve songs were interwoven without giving rise to boredom or predictability. Each test was a special talent for building melodies. Indeed, they seemed to have been composed on the beach, in a special state of peace. Predominantly acoustic guitars, sometimes electric, but always in a very discreet level, and a bass and drums that were limited to dial the appropriate pace at the right time. The string arrangements were very subtle and embellished passages already vibrant.

never would have believed that Alexander was able to create that world of beauty. I congratulated him and expressed my surprise. A few days later, he proposed a record disc edition. Within a month the model was re-recorded with better means, but his spirit remained intact. In late September, Alejandro Navas it was a revelation for fans of the most exquisite pop, a promising successor to Brian Wilson. Finally

was living his dream. Came just as the floor, as concert promotions and kept him very busy. The critical acclaim was unanimous, and how much he could berate his "classicism", her fondness for classic pop, but always recognizing his extraordinary compositional skill. Sometimes ran into some of the interviews they had done following the success of his disk. And although it had become a brilliant musician, very little of what he said Alexander was much interest. With the exception of one of the phrases repeated most often:

"I have spent many years wondering about the secret great songs, studying, trying to find an explanation for the spark that generated. My songs are the result of that search. "

Just what I saw during that year. The few times I agree, I talked about how tired he was and the desire I had to re-compose.

"I'm very excited about my new project, but I have not written anything. Begin this summer. And in September I am obliged to deliver a disk. But I trust myself. Remember what happened to Brian Wilson Pet Sounds after recording?

We talked about it a thousand times. After the album Pet Sounds, famous perennial leader The Beach Boys set out to create the best pop album of all time, a "teenage symphony to God" in their own words. Not only did it, but his career went into a long decline and his mind was lost in the fog of insanity. Not recover until years later.

"Me not going to spend it. I assure you I will write the best pop album ever created. Alejandro

his enthusiasm. After such conversations, then wanted to hear his new material. His stunning debut was reasonable to expect something big on the second disk.

CONTINUE

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The thief of melodies (III)

A few weeks later there was another change. One morning, Alexander came with a package. Put it on the kitchen table and opened it. The board revealed four books with a binding that looked old and dull reddish color. Took them to his room and spent the whole afternoon locked. It took several days. The few times I left the room could see, behind the door ajar, a part of its bed full of pages with annotations. Did not explain anything. One night, over dinner, I talked about some interesting film that just premiered. I said we could go see it.

"Impossible. Now I'm very busy with exams.

the afternoon, returning from college, I was cluttered with hundreds of papers on the dining table. It was written in ancient Greek and Latin, infested with notes in the margins with the letter of Alexander. I convinced myself that, really, my partner was in full exam time. Moreover, I was busy with medical exams, so I could not devote much time to investigate what Alexander could be brought up to. However, certain details suspicions aroused in me all kinds. Sometimes, between its pages scribbled, I was Expanding maps on different scales, different parts of the world and from different eras. All were crossed by lines that seemed obsessive pen drawing paths. Nevertheless, more worryingly taking place at night. While trying to sleep, tossing and turning in bed, haunted by the humid heat of the city were in early July and began to startle those who uttered cries of enthusiasm Alejandro from his room at any hour of the morning. At first I just did from time to time. It was impossible not to see in those blasts an expression of satisfaction, fullness of reaching a goal.

The cries gradually increased up to become very frequent in one night. In addition, the character of Alexander became increasingly taciturn, which made me seriously doubt your mental stability. I thought about outbreaks of schizophrenia and alienation from reality. And I feared the worst when my partner did not appear at home for three days. I was about to report his absence to the police. The more weight had reached this determination, Alexander returned. He carried two large bags of newly purchased. The room began to darken the shadows of dusk. Alexander lit a lamp.

"I've finished exams. I was studying at a friend's house, so I could not come here. Maybe I should have warned.
"I was about to call the police.

Removed scarf and jacket, and threw them carelessly on a sofa. Dragged the bags to your room and returned to the dining room.

"Tomorrow I'm going on vacation. I bought a ticket to California. I need to remove all the stress of exams.
- Are you going to California?
"So I said, right? "He said, winking. I figure that I'll be out a couple of weeks, at most three. Do not worry, leave pay rent throughout the month.

It was the next day. Since his departure, the summer went for me as a line of continuous peace and serenity. The latest antics of Alexander had been generated in a distance between us again, this time reinforced by my doubts about his mental health. I was alone on the floor for two weeks, which took advantage of his absence to organize small parties or simply enjoy the disappearance of the tensions that had marked our relationship. Finally, I myself went away on vacation. I contemplated returning to the floor, and the company of Alexander, as a cumbersome burden. I seriously considered the possibility of moving house in return. I realized just how hard it would be accustomed to normal again when, three weeks later, I opened the front door and heard music from inside. Alexander was there. I tried to smile. Reclined on the couch. Her skin was dark and wore a Hawaiian flowered shirt and some shorts.

"Oh, I see that you have laid great vacation.
- Cool? More than that! My life has changed completely. CONTINUE

Read The thief of melodies (I)
Read The thief of melodies (II)

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The thief of melodies (II)

Paul McCartney said in 1966 that God Only Knows composed by Brian Wilson, leader of the Beach Boys, was the best song I had ever written. And even at the hands of Alejandro Navas I had mistaken for a song of worship to Satan, the truth is that this was a change in our relationship. Alexander did not take long to teach his extensive record collection. As I was a fanatic fan of pop music, which he did not communicate us to pass at all to maintain long conversations about music and art. I stopped eating out every night and arrived at the flat when he knew that Alexander would be preparing their food. Then we sat in the dining room and listened to records from the stereo in your room. As I gathered, he studied classical literature for several years.

I have never had the concentration needed to study more than two subjects per course. But I would like to end this year.

I also discussed his work as a musician. He played in a bar every weekend.

"I have a group with friends. We are dedicated to interpreting pop classics, especially the most unknown. I'll take care of the keyboard.

However, he never acted or tell me where I was invited to go see them someday. Evasive or abruptly changed the subject.

- What you never thought of composing?

When asked this question, stared at the floor and smoothed her hair with her fingers.

"I would, but I realize I have no talent. Especially irritates me know I have good taste, that is, I like what is good, I know appreciate. But I have the secret to writing good songs. I think there's something magical about a song that manages to thrill. I have studied countless times the structure of the songs that I like, I tried to break them down, I have carefully studied the melody. But it is impossible, an unattainable goal for me.

One night I got to hear some songs he had recorded. Although the sound was more controlled than when rehearsing with the keyboard in her room was only occasionally couplings, "despite the inability of music and all the kits, I saw clearly the songs that Alejandro was shaping . Indeed, as he himself admitted, were mediocre compositions, without claw, trying to follow the melodic wake of Brian Wilson and remained in simple caricatures. But I would not be cruel:

"Well, not that bad.

Our relationship had improved, but that did not stop sometimes appear quite unpleasant facets of Alexander. Did not discriminate when to display these character traits. I mean, even for a couple of hours we had been talking in a friendly on the talent of Elvis Costello or underrated groups of the eighties, was able to offend me immediately with a resounding and judgmental view:

- Do you like Robert Musil ? Yes, it's okay if you do not have too much personality and believe everything that is told in the books of criticism.

These situations occurred when I started to appreciate him or when I had forgotten in other words the same style, but of days ago. I never liked to discuss, so when this occurred, interrupted the conversation, I got up off the couch and go to bed, promising myself not to give Alexander more confidence and limit the relationship to what is strictly necessary. I soon forgot my purposes when the next day, and perhaps moved by bad conscience, Alejandro disc left me "I sure would like it" or I intended to watch a movie at night, when he returned to test their group.

Anyway, I think I started to understand him from one night, two months after my entry into the floor. I went with some friends the option to have a drink. One of them spoke of a nightclub where there was action in the Gothic Quarter. That was our next destination. The bar was in a narrow alley and the smell of urine. When we entered, the action had begun. A fat man, bald, gray beard jokes without much grace to an audience rather laughed at him. And behind a keyboard, by sound effects and music that accompanied the end of all jokes, always punctuated with "Go home!" Or the whistling of the spectators, I discovered Alejandro Navas . He tried not to cross your eyes with me throughout the performance.

For a few days it seemed as if we had gone back to the beginning when we did not speak. But gradually I noticed an effort on their part to get back in touch with me, and then we were again talking all night. However, he never referred to that meeting, and I never asked. I realized that his personality was a complex mix of dissatisfaction and a desire thwarted talent. CONTINUE

Read The thief of melodies (I)

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The thief of melodies (I)

I have not stopped thinking about him since his disappearance from the letter. Study mentally all I know, but I dare not give an explanation as final because, after all, I've never been inside their world. On the first day, from the moment I shook his hand and looked up and down, I knew I was going to be a person of treatment unpredictable. Quickly sought to get along with my new roommate, but I sensed that this man of small stature, close to thirty and looked at me seriously, over his spectacles, smugly, I would not make things easy.

"My name is Alexander. Do not make much noise when you take things in your room. I'm studying.

Until then, Alejandro Navas was just a name on one of the parties to the contract he had signed. The girl who gave me the room had not told me anything about him, except that "it is very quiet." Now he looked to turn around and shut the door again from which it came. At least he struggled to meet me.

I was extremely careful in respecting the notice. He had got a good rent for it is a medium floor in the center of Barcelona, \u200b\u200band the last thing I wanted was trouble. The first days we hardly saw. In the morning, I woke up just as he was leaving the bathroom, with its dark hair, long curly hair back with clear emerging in certain parts of the head. His whiskers were cut several inches below the ears, almost reaching the neck, and wore an eternal four-day beard. Breakfast coffee and went to college. She put the jacket and a purple scarf, even though we were in spring.

For books that sometimes left on the dinner table, I found that studying classical literature. The first day I came home very late, when she had gone to bed. Studying in medical school and practice sometimes kept me very busy. I wanted to talk to him, but I tried too, hurt, deep down, the little finesse he had shown nothing more to know, and the scorn that was deduced from its low tendency to speak.

One afternoon I decided to study in my room until evening. When I got to the floor, nobody seemed to be no. The room door was closed Alejandro. It was very good day, so I decided to take advantage of the sunlight that illuminated the room. I think it was four in the afternoon. I sat on the couch and I got into reading a book on nervous diseases. I could concentrate quickly, but not for too long. I began to hear strange sounds coming from la habitación de mi compañero. Al principio pensé que era una radio o un televisor que se habían encendido accidentalmente. Pero el volumen subía, y aquellos chirridos empezaron a hacerse muy molestos. Parecía el ruido de una computadora loca. Escuché pasos en la habitación, y un irritante sonido de acople que duró unos segundos. No había duda de que Alejandro estaba allí.

Me levanté y me encerré en la habitación. Estaba enfadado por aquella interrupción en la paz de mi estudio. Intenté volver a la lectura, pero el sonido creció hasta niveles grotescos y me molestaba incluso con la puerta cerrada. Pensé en salir del piso e irme a estudiar a la biblioteca de mi facultad. Entonces Alejandro's voice sounded, unmistakable and amplified. I noticed his slightly nasal timbre and female. At first, together with those blows her voice sound obsessive, I thought maybe he was practicing some sort of demonic prayer or incantation. I decided that was enough. I remembered all the care I had not to upset him, following his first words, and that cynical disrespect I got angry. Very angry, I left my room and crossed the room toward hers.

However, as I approached, I discovered that the tangle of sounds grotesque was a harmony, a feature that I found family. Appreciate better the voice, which until then seemed to be an "or" satanic, elongated and without nuance. I looked at the link that connected him attempt to speak with the rest of the noise, and I could see an early partnership. Then I realized it actually amplified the voice said Alejandro Navas:

- God only knows.

I opened the door. Alejandro I watched from the back of the room, wedged between a closet and several shelves of books. I was surprised and, judging by the color of his face in shame. Her fingers had stopped over the keys of an electronic piano quite colorful, full of buttons with two amplifiers and a stand with legs that lifted him from the ground. A trembling hand a microphone, also supported, and connected to an amplifier that hung on the wall. The microphone began to mate again, but Alexander disconnected it.

"Sorry, I thought you were not," she said, her voice trembling.
I did not know that you like the Beach Boys. CONTINUE

Read The thief of melodies (II)