De la oscuridad y la bondad

Where did you come from?

Did you crawl out from some suffocating space in the subway tunnels? Did you escape from the broken streets when the lights went out in the storm? Did the thunder shatter your serenity and rouse you to seek out a new victim? Did the rain drip down and drive you out of the dark?

This place, this city, this concrete-glass-and-sky labyrinth was destined to be our battleground. Here we are equals, your wits and mine. I am stripped of my weapons and my allies. My armor is my skin; my will, the only cutting edge I bear. Now we are matched.

If I should fall you shall consume me and leave me ruined with tears in my blind eyes. Yet should I will, should my hands drain you of breath and life, so much sweeter the victory won by my own strength.

I am my own sharp steel.

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A cooked mandioca on a small white plate, or two sumptuous pieces of homemade dessert at an early hour of the morning - they both come with a warning, "¡No dice nada!" (she could get into trouble!). A lent glass jar to hold up freshly-ground pepper. A bowl of cereal with café con leche and juice, instead of one or the other. A phone call to distant family members, asking if a total stranger can spend the night in their house so he does not have to spend money on a hostel. Countless hot meals, a bed, and full reign of a house in which I have no right to be in - all without accepting any form of recompense.

Kindness comes in many forms, most of which are not deserved and cannot be adequately repaid with "gracias," handwritten notes, or a set of drink coasters with flower prints.

Perhaps the only way to repay such kindness is to show it to others.