little or nothing Mónica Núñez Cortés . I know my mom was rehearsing a play with it at the time, and for some reason I stayed long at home. I had the memory of my mom left me there and go, but she said that in fact, rehearsed at the home of Monica, so I stayed with her daughter in a room or room in the house, waiting for end.
At the time, I charmed a huge grand piano that was in the living (or what I thought was the living ). It was a very big house, and mine too girl, one of the reasons why I could never have a piano, in addition to the economic question that always lurked like a shadow at the house of Bulnes after the separation of my parents. My parents took some rebuild financially after divorce. The reality is that I always wanted a piano, and every time I saw one in someone's house, my heart was moved to infinity. I used to look at it sideways all the time, was fascinated by the instrument, that I was untouchable, first because all piano owners are jealous of him, and second, because he thought he could get no sound good, far from it.
So Mónica Núñez Cortés had a grand piano at home. The daughter seemed to me, frankly, lucky girl more the world, with that pianote at home. In fact, it seems to me that was a grand piano, but there was not. For there was an ordinary piano. And twist things enough that I remember, so you can imagine with what I do not remember so well.
also remember that she was in her room computer, or if it was his room, at least it was the piece that let us. And he showed me a superb game: Carmen San Diego. I could not stop playing it. In memory it seems to me, I think, that my presence is upsetting the daughter of Monica. Do not know if it was bigger than me, or what happened, but I remember me slightly grumpy. Probably my fascination with the house to her it was heavy, and she saw nothing extraordinary in what I had and had had since forever. Not that it much, but for me it was. That piano, and was the world to me.
also knew it was the sister of Leluthier the same name, a man escapades, I always like and I like the Les Luthiers .
And nothing else. Who was a friend of my mom. That was an actress, and that was lucky. And I remember his name, had it fixed in my mind, who knows why strange reason.
Today I open a mail the Celcit often sent each day by all team members yahoo. It turns out that for years have not opened one of those mails. Do not open it, ever. The month I stopped reading them to me began to rule. But this I open it, without any explanation. In the mail says
De Ernesto Michel (Buenos Aires, Argentina): Our farewell to Monica Cortes Nuñez
WHY DO THE GOOD DIE? IF THERE ARE SO MANY CHILDREN OF HOOKER
ADIOS NUNEZ MONICA CORTES
And I can not believe. I can not believe I open a mail never open, never ever open it, and when I open it I find this message. And I remember his name. And home. And his daughter. And the brother I Luthier. And remember that at one point, my mother rehearsed plays, and I remember how much passion I had for the piano, being so small. And I'm sad. I'm sad beyond words. Because I met this woman. Because I liked. Because I was at home, and is now dead. And it was older than my mom, I think. And I think of her daughter. What will become of her daughter. Search For internet. In The Nation, says he died after a long illness. I read the articles. It's a dead actress. And I'm an actress too.
page In cinenacional says the date of death: May 21, 2009. Last Thursday. And I wonder if I will do the same, a whole life, and then listed as born a ... 1983 and died ... of ... and be it. Being an entity between two dates in the Western calendar. Being a beginning and an end, in an internet page . And the matches. Died the same day he died so and so (in the page says). Died the same day he was born so and so. And life is small between these two dates as a thin copper line.
And I can not avoid identification because it is an actress like me. I became an actress and then I see it as a background, I knew before I knew that my destiny was on stage, and now she is dead, and at some point (maybe soon, maybe not) I is also . I chose the profession of that woman, that woman who is now among Celcit messages.
during my childhood I met some women actresses, to whom he would follow, without realizing it. My music teacher in elementary school, Maria Nidia, was an actress of telenovelas (and still remain so ) and I did not know. I met her recently, and talked about our projects, and compendium suddenly we were colleagues, I was a colleague of my music teacher in the primary. And a very loud thread binds me to these women actresses, these first glimpses of actresses in my life, those who drank unconsciously.
So Monica: You are perpetrated in my memory. Ephemeral, it will last as long as I live, and inaccurate, of course, because I did not go over your house three or four times and was very young. But you have charted a path that others continue, because we are colleagues and the profession unites us.
were so clear in my memory, and I had not realized it. I remember thin and curly and happy. Over there you were so, why not. Over there you can not imagine that this shy girl, the daughter of your friend and companion essay, follow your steps, with a conviction undisturbed.
Like our ancestors, we, the living, we take your gun, and killed all the actresses who have lived and survived to today we continue living and surviving.
Chance willed that I learned of your death. Chance, fate, wanted me to open the mail , I can not help but think that is a message from heaven, the Gods, whoever, and they called me thinking, and that reminds me once again then not much left of me, a tombstone, or none at all, and a few texts that do not say even 10% of what was my life. Archaeological fossils of my passage through this world, a poor reconstruction of something that will inevitably be forgotten.
must be hard to let go, Monica. Good for you .
A heartfelt goodbye, and wish you strongly, strongly, that peace rest.
Anne's daughter
