A Thousand Times, YES

Alone, but still sailing on

Yes. Yes, I know. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

I have neglected this blog. I know. Yes. Yes, I do. I have. I know I have, and I’m sorry.

Sorry. I’m sorry. I am sorry. I am. Yes, I am. Yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

Do I care? Yes. Do I care about the followers, the fans, the readers, the aficionados, the tifosi, the urmjlir, the masses? Yes, I do. Yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes.

Waleed, Sharon, David, Hiroko, Carlos, Amparo, Ludwig, Pierre, Salva, Fatima, Raquel, Monty, Bill, Juan, Susie, Yang, Merche, Sharifa, Lucifer… I care. I do. I’m sorry. I am. Yes. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

My apologies to all of you. I have been distracted. I have strayed from the blogging path. I have sinned.

 A few weeks ago my personal assistant posted a blog here in my name, the one on Holistic Bicycle Maintenance, which I had written many moons ago and had kept in cold storage for a rainy day in the event of fire just in case. Many of you doubted even its authorship, let alone its provenance – stroke – pertinence.

I shall explain.

One day.

But for now, let it suffice that I forewarn ye. Zaragoza Twins Is Back. In a big way. Lock up your daughters, o ye of little faith. The end is nigh. And so is the start. And the middle bit. And those crusty bits round the edges.

I could have posted my interview with Gloria, the Psychic Mushroom from Leeds who predicted Spain’s World Cup win. I could have posted my thesis on the link between Bibiana Aido and Proust. I could have reviewed Vladimir Putin’s new film. But no. I didn’t. I could have, but I didn’t and I won’t.

But I might.

One day.

Yes, one day.

That’s all it takes – one day.

Twenty four little hours.

The distance between July and August.

The space between one lunar cycle and the next.

The time it takes to boil an egg.

So bear with me.

All shall be revealed, reviled, defiled, torn asunder as thunder understood as thunder. There is a lot to say, even though it’s been said before, even though it was sad before and will be even sadder a second time around as Man stumbles for the second time on the same stone, and no, this isn’t the Somontano Monkey speaking, it is I, Heen Martínez, the survivor, the living, the One Twin.

You heard it right.

The Single Twin. The twinless twin that twinkles with a solitary light.

Where to begin? How to start? Can it be so? Can it be any other way? Can the world accept the fact that Zaragoza Twins is no longer an entity, a duality, a twosome, a FACT..?

Sheen has renounced her brother. She is no longer my sister. We are no longer twins. I am the remaining Sheenless Zaragoza Twin. She is out there, alive, unreturning, twinfree and apart.

There. I have said it. It is beyond pain. It is pain itself. It is the quintessential painless painfulness of zero pain, the epicentre of all that pain could aspire to be.

Pain is in me, and I am in pain. I am in Zaragoza and I am in Spain. Sheen is not. Sheen is not coming back.

A new lifeless life awaits me as I edge towards my future. I am alone in the twilight, unlit by the twinlight, estranged and giddy, bamboozled and detached like an octopus’s tentacle snagged on the rudder of a dhow.

I am here.


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