Men. As a child I was always fascinated by these strange creatures great and reconcentrated lively and intense, strong and silent as horses or tigers or trees, but more beautiful even than the horses and tigers and the trees. The men of my childhood were quietly sad and were always tired and always had something to do with my father. I liked the hand to lead them to places, talk to them and make them laugh. My mother feared them. My father uninvited whiskey. I was happy if he could play chess with them or touch their songs on the piano. I liked their deep voices and the smell of their bodies. I saw them sweating under the weight of a load or greased in unequal combat with a motor, and admired. A man is serious. I liked and I like men almost as much as I disliked and I dislike children. But get too involved with the first may generate the second, so I have a problem.
I'm afraid a little in that famous issue of pride. My mother insisted it too much. Maybe too much. But then to me, nothing pleases me as much as the admiration of the proud men, when they find in me qualities that they believed unique. Then I feel I'm a bit them, and that makes me happy, because I like as much as you can get close to them, even if I get close enough to bear children, I find it insufficient. I like to feel engulfed by the look of admiration of a proud man. And later I realize that this view puts too much distance. And I want to be closer, I want to lead them out to a place. I want to feel close to their odors. And watch his eyes closely. Would suffice one, one in particular. A strong man who has sweated under a load and has endured and admire me for having endured while not as strong.
Men are like songs. Every man, for me, has its shape and color and song. Men give advice. English I do not forget that one night in Mar del Plata told me that we must stand and fight, stand up and fight. " And we take forty beers, we at dawn. Neither the merchant marine who told me "You and I are brave: I'll get on the high seas, you you mess with the word" and the next day introduced me to his mother. Men have saved my life. Always a man saves me from dying from despair by another man. And everything is a drama serene and civilized as a novel by Somerset Maugham.
I love men.
Not all, but some love them.
And others just loved them.
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