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ÁLLEX LEILLA272A young man passes, near the old tree, full of life, which gives shade to partof the sidewalk. He frowns on seeing her:“Do you need any help lady?”Wearing jeans and a light green cap. He comes running, frightened, toward her.“What happed lady?”She tries to work out the time while she leans on his shoulder.“Do you need any help?” he asks again, confused.She stares at him. He wrings his hands.Yes, darling, any help at all, why not? See, he will end up noticing: two menwould have to be killed, very soon. The thought was so quick that she hardlybelieved it: does the body rule the mind or does the mind rule the body? Callthe Prince of Irony, the God of Infinite Melancholy later on and ask: so, darling,have you already got a clear answer?Remembering this song means hanging in the vacuum once more. So manybut so many years have gone by. She was a teenager and wanted to leaveBrazil. That song at breakfast, that song at lunch time, that song before goingto sleep. Does the body rule the mind or does the mind rule the body? Whatdifference does it make? She liked it even more when the opposite happened,when the heart was swifter and took the fore. A life guided by emotion, amatinee life, instead of one that was as pragmatic as what she was used to, ifshe could choose, what would she really choose?The fellow asks her again if she needs any help, if she’s been run over, ifshe’s sick. She shakes her head, denying it. If her throat weren’t so dry, shewould say that yes, she had been run over, no: crushed, better: ground up. Theyhad run over her entire existence like a tractor.Nothing new there, pay attention: the world is a grinding mill, that sambasinger crooned. It is the streetcar of evil in the road, that guitarist observed, andsomeone’s peace is coming to an end.Ah! How she needed help. Everyone, anyone. Especially: a glass of icewater. Water that knew slid smoothly down the throat without scratchingwhen it went down inside the body. Then, a long rest between the cottonclouds of childhood, those which turned into others second by second,moving, spilt, between the blue spaces of the sky. Drops of some new rain onher body, perhaps an interrupted rainbow behind the buildings.And also: the quickest guns in the world with shrill triggers, the latestcannons and gunpowder, a lot of gunpowder to explode all the unknownpenises into the air. Or, a little more primitive, why not? Pocket-knives to ripthem from bodies, fans and cotton wool balls doused with alcohol in one’snose to be able to watch them burning without having to smell the rotten,infested odor.