from Galápagos

Things you could never imagine

There is an ancient insect
that rubs life into your nerves
Huidobro

They told you that you could tell time here by looking at the rooster’s crest, but there are only
insects or long serval cats that open their eyes to kill the tapir.

Is this Galápagos?

There are also frigate birds with their tails spreading open like a kite and a pandemonium of
gaudy parrots that compete, every year, with the punctual visit of maroon wings:

those winged ants, so brown they look almost red. Plump from some mysterious airborne food,
enormous and hairy, they roam the edge of my bed as dawn breaks.

The island is a paradise of pests. A large honeycomb filled with bees breaks off a tree one windy
night, and the swarm hosts a feast in your living room.

Crazy like a baby who has lost her mother. Thousands buzzing, darkening your house.

Three months they stayed here. We asphyxiated them. They stayed prisoners in the center of our
house vibrating like a permanent foundation, and I still listen to the rhythmic buzz-buzz of their
choking.

I asked myself if God had observed the insects up close. I would have thought twice.