She slept in Surquillo
The positions of the front and side of a of the most beautiful actresses d the planet. Liz Taylor, with his empty-headed eyes of an indescribable placed r violet and sensuous scents of leopard Enceladus, from the first inch of white ecran covering their little moderating charms, wet dreams populated of all moviegoers in the world, whose first chair, love as a teenager without acne, contained surquillano chronicler. Here's accurate, but moved later love letter that he wrote to actress. (Published in "You are guilty." Editorial Norma. 2004 )
Scrip be: Eloy Jáuregui
S í , the mother - not the Gorki but mine - owned a beauty salon, a embellódromo, clinic head. It was known but not popular, seven-block radius. It depended largely on aesthetics headaches l neighborhood. Neighborhood of Lima in the sixties, geography of the vanguard of squealing, kitsch - the hairstyle "bombe" - and spit. Surquillo, neighborhood, sacred territory of film, bad habit and journals photon is.
In the lobby, Oregon pine pews, on the eve of pelicidio and lounge area, on Saturday afternoon, a pile of stars waiting to be seen , endorsed and reviewed. Vanity, the Bohemian, the Ecran and Life, they were naked, in sepia, clients and collectors. Then one infamous and infant reader squint sex and resentful sense oya point of being filled, "that Columbus discovered wrecked in the roundness of the buttocks of the other world, the vicious circle in the female legs stretched was the missing link and not the leather ring both engineer-speak that time alchemist HG Wells in 1 895.
legs or breasts, it does not matter. The c raw arne was what counted then. Cannibal of plane, an astronomer in search of a Star (of film). And at some point in life you discover why when a woman passed, and there were some who did not complete the pass-Turn collar men, focused on gun point from the waist down, stuck his tongue to his lips and threw d kind and belching wild. At some point in life was when I browsed the International Journal d Ecran and film, made in Chile, a special-very special apologized in a melancholy label: "By plane." Then I met Liz, almost awake.
I doubt that she found out. And although my mother encouraged to write to the Hollywood studios and then to their sacred mansion and then a representative, just tried a scribble in my notebook N ino and Health. The script is assume love nt of giants. I was petrified dwarf, a gnome erotic or under the porch, nearly a mouse under the altar of the bolero. I doubt that even Liz, Liz's violet eyes thirties, replying to a Third Eye babieca cloudy. But that was my problem and not his estimate and hypocritical reader.
And on page 8, or Elizabeth, or Liz Lizbeth, showed that profile- nose rose up to heaven fall, which chopped angel, lips dread and drown you in hell for their language, imagine purple-black eyebrows with brow guard, are the parentheses of sex-with eyelids as sheets silk covering the forbidden, Liz, osculoza hopeless, I say, kissing one, and another and another. His lips, stuck in the jaws of Montgomery Clift, Fernando Lamas, Dana, was a man checked-Andr News, Vittorio Gassman, Van Johnson, Rock Hudson was a man untestable-Rex Harrison and lips reeking of bourbon Richard Bur to n.
English I knew that when he kisses is a kiss of truth, as I said a pasodoble around Silverio Pérez. But Liz, abusive, greedy and suck people kissed lie: so he said mom, pious and eclectic but never believed him. No matter how I fell in love at that age, you fall in love like a pig of any lunacy, my cousin Mary for example, which later became known in college life as "puts and takes" ol a "b aja passion" - and not interested in the degree of burning in my gizzard to, but it is true that embodies that Liz appeared in the magazine with this caption: "The c ine made her queen of love. " So what was my love with pain, but in the end After all, love first mere magazine.
That thing was what Liz. Everything, but not so sten c omo appeared on the cover of the blessed Ecran, had "it", the substance of sensuality, summa theological / eschatological / erotológica. Never mind that three years later with Richard Burton and his life zamaqueando declared the editor of Life, Mr. Richard Merryman in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico: "I have the legs too short, some long arms, a double chin Moreover, large hands and feet and I'm too fat. My best attraction is the hair that I are putting Americans. All my rods have a name: Burton ".
I a damn-pubescent, acolyte between tutelary goddesses boobs-his chin and enormous toes of the feet. Was it complete, for k ilos, interesting with huge cameras and flashes, now posing nalguda 15 years splashing in a pool in his first "pin up", now explaining the anatomy (the geography of burning): "I have a girl's mind in a woman's body. "And further, in another photo, sharing stardom with the dog Lassie (another bone to the dog) and then another, with a horse anonymous and Mickey Rooney. Then came the best, nothing dark kisses - Edgebander unrepentant now say the alligators in my neighborhood - the kisses ad iestra and left. What were his lips. Nothing, the insatiable itch, squinting music from the heart. Then I fell in love with Liz, almost asleep. And red-devoted readers- did mine (the magazine, not meat, because that one was a vegetarian sex). So I slept on my arm around the woman embers of paper - that holds all the role women do not - and dreamed that dream awake the sleeping face of her lap, her back to my age - it's not easy being 12 years and not have whiskers, up and down - head and woke up thirsty and more haggard and thin and pindinga and with my hands as Mad Love.
My second marriage to Liz was in the midst of darkness Spring cinema accomplice. My older brother, who graduated from American film titles, when she introduced me, love was seen as appropriate would be inappropriate "in the film Giant. I was still a dwarf, leads do but dwarf the end. It was a glare. Liz busy flirting with the fine late James Dean. Liz was the wife of Rock Hudson, a Texas oil-Dean male employee. The fair was unfair, behind it were three back. My brother was not involved, he was dating Brigitte Bardot. not say that I overcame é, Hudson was beautiful, a nice Dean Wild, I was a voyeur nasty, but that night, the night of Surquillo, kidnaps her crawling to myself.
my mother was when the court imposed the Nile Cleopatra and went to the side of my house. That was unfaithful, which was the robahombres, that was dedicated to hunting husbands. That was adulterous and pituca, which was called "the s eñorita tits", that did not care. It was when I wrote my first love letter with a touch of GA Becquer, some of Vargas Vila and a stream of Juan de Dios Peza: "Dear Liz: before the two the sky has given birth to another sky to sleep without pajamas (blur). And I hope that tomorrow will not you take the wheel, because I say that last night they saw a tremendous vacilón (more smudging). Are you coming home? Let me know because I have a brave dog. Is it true that you like the teeth in the neck? yours: Cañita of the lagoon. Good night, Liz! ".
