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Page Summary that in catalan is "Índex de la pàgina"

Literatura Catalana
Si fossis terra creixeria en tu
i llevaria fruits d'una rara dolcesa;
seria fidel als camins que et solquen la pell
i als rius secrets que et travessen l'entranya.

November 2008
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helenicglauc [userpic]

This is a short story that I wrote in catalan some time ago.
You can read it in catalan in the next link:

"Cançó trista de la carretera"

This story is also edited in a book "10x10 Microrelats". This book was edited by "La Quàdriga" and it contains stories hung in www.relatsencatala.cat.
I hope, grateful, your corrections and opinions.


Jerry have never picked up such a young hitch-hiker.
-Where do you go?
A swarm of fanciful freckles surrounded her nose; her hair was red; her eyes were blue; her face, pale.
-What's your name?
They stopped in a petrol station.
And old man approached them.
-Do you go to the west?
-To Sacramento.
-The motor coach has gone away without me, and I haven't enough money for the motel.
The Chevrolet raced along the desert road. Wind spun crowded branches, as they were strange balls. By nightfall, landscape became phosphorescent.
-What do you do, Jerry? –Eileen asked.
-I'm a manager.
-I'm an actress.
Suddenly, the vault of sky dyed in red-hot, wind stopped, flatness got covered in orange light.
-My God! –Eileen exclaimed, gazing at horizon.
-Indescribable. -the old man added.
They leaved the car and went deep into the desert. They sat on the rough ground. The old man took out a mouth organ and played a Willy Nelson's melody.
-You know? –Jerry said, scratching head -. I've been untruthful. I've lost my job, my wife has left me and I don't know where I go.
-I haven't told the truth either -Eileen said -. I've run away from home.
-Well... my daughter have deserted me in the petrol station -the old man explained, with his eyes opened as dishes.
Some instants, full of uncertainty, went by, and then they started to laugh like sillies.
-And now...? –asked Jerry.
-Let's play another song... –said the old man.
Red light of sky was toning down, while nostalgia covered wilderness.



I have to buy this book as fast as possible. I couldn't by San Jordi and they finished its existence at the Proa book shop (when I saw it the last time)

*Això de paralar amb anglès per a aquest barri té el seu què de com si fóssim una espècie d'immigrants hongaresos, amagats en uns apartaments de mala mort de Brooklin :D*

Is there any particular reason you chose California as a setting for this poem? I'm from California (and a Catalan as well) and was curious.

California is the destination, the end of the travel, the top of the mountains ascent. In XIX century a lot of families passed the desert to arrived California. California was the end of a survival war, a dream. This story happens in a desert, in the place of nobody, in a road, in the wilderness. A pack of lifes (of lost lifes) walk one beside the other towards nowhere, but in the end of the dreams is California, as a symbol of freedom and hopeful.