China by Jose Donoso 
China José Donoso
On one side the gray wall of the university. Opposite, the agitation of the cooking places smelly alternative to the tranquility of the stores used books and bustle of the establishments where sweaty men horman and iron, between bursts of steam. Beyond, to the end of the first block, retreat houses and the sidewalk is widened. When night falls, is the most hectic the street. A whole world swirling around the fruit stands. Rough-skinned oranges and green apples, polished and hard as enamel, change color under the neon signs, red and blue. Abyss of darkness or light, fall between the faces around the charlatan vociferous crowd, decked out with a live snake. In winter clog scarlet scarves worn faces, revealing only the brightness or entrusted grim, insightful or bovine eyes that shows each be different. Every other tram moves up the narrow road, waving around with his loud mechanical senescence. In a second floor balcony features a woman wrapped in a thick robe listing. Blow on a brazier and sparks fly as the tail of a comet. For a moment, the woman's face is clear and warm and deep.
Like all the streets, this is also public. For me, however, always was. For many years I held the conviction that I was the only stranger who had the right to venture among its highlights and shadows.
When small, I lived in a nearby street, but of very different stamp. There, the linden, the double bluff, so whimsical, the busy road and faces little serious talk of a world entirely. One afternoon, however, I accompanied my mother to the other street. It was found some covered. Suspected that an employee had stolen, to take after a certain pawn shop located there. It was winter and it had rained. At the bottom of the intersections were visible traces of light water, and on the ceilings hung low clouds still vague brownish spots. The road was wet, and the hair of women would stick, limp, their cheeks. Dark.
Upon entering the street, a car came upon us with a crash. I sought refuge near my mother, along with a cabinet full of sheet music. In one of them, in an oval, a smiling blond girl. I asked my mother to buy me that sheet, but did not pay attention and keep walking. I had wide eyes. Not only wanted to look at all the faces passing by me, but touch, smell, seemed so wonderfully different. Many people carrying packages, bags, baskets and all sorts of seductive and mysterious objects. In the crush, a worker charged with a mattress disarray hat my mother. She laughed, saying:
- By God, this is like in China! We
down the street. It was difficult to avoid the puddles on the pavement cracked. By passing a Cookery, I discovered that the smell mixed with the smell of my mother's raincoat was pleasant. Have seemed to me as showing the windows. She was horrified, they said everything was normal or second hand. Hundreds of empavonado glass vases with medallions of flags and flowers. Piggy cat-shaped plaster, painted magenta and silver. Multicolored ball jars. Strings of postcards and tops. But above all seduced me quiet and clean store, on whose door a sign read: "Japanese darning."
not remember what happened with the case of cutlery. But the fact is that this road was marked in my memory as something exciting, different. It was the freedom and adventure. Far from it, my simple life unfolded in the order of their times. The "Japanese darning, as much as I wanted, never remendaría my clothes. The nuns would starched small nimble fingers. At home in the evenings, I despaired thinking of "China", a name that I named the street. There was, of course, another China. The illustrations of the tales of Calleja, the adventures of Pinocchio. But now that China was not important.
One Sunday morning I had a quarrel with my mother. By way of revenge I went to the desk and studied largely a city map hanging on the wall. After lunch my parents were out, and the employees took the spring sun in the last yard. Fernando suggested to my brother:
- Are we going to "China"?
His eyes sparkled. Thought we were going to play, as so often, to make trips on the stairs of scissors lying under the orange, or perhaps to disguise the East.
"As they left," he said, we steal things mom's drawer.
"No, silly," I whispered, this time we will go to "China." Fernando
wore pale blue overalls and white sandals. I carefully took his hand and headed for the street that I was dreaming. We walk in the sun. We went to "China", had to show the world, but mostly it was necessary to care for young children. As we approached, my heart beat faster. Reflected that fortunately was Sunday afternoon. There little traffic, and there was no danger when crossing from one sidewalk to another.
At last we reached the first block of my street.
"This is it said, and felt that my brother was clinging to my body.
first thing that surprised me was not to see neon signs, no blue or red or green. Had imagined that this road was always magical night. By continuing, I noticed that all shops had closed. Or yellow trams ran. A terrible despair was invading me. The sun was warm, turning houses and streets of a soft honey color. Everything was clear. Circulated very few people, they slowly and with empty hands, just like us.
Fernando asked
- Why is "China" here?
I felt lost. Suddenly, I knew how to please. I saw my status fail before him, and without an immediate occurrence great, my brother would never believe me.
"Come to the" darning Japanese "I said. There really is "China."
had little hope that this will convince him. But Fernando, who began to read, spell undoubtedly achieve faded billboard hanging above the store. Perhaps this increased their faith. From the street, spelled it perfectly. I said then:
"See, stupid, you did not believe.
"But it's ugly," said with a pout.
Tears were about to fill my eyes, if something important was happening, quickly, immediately. But what could happen? On the streets almost deserted, the shops had tended to lids over their windows. Towards a low heat and pleasant.
"Do not be silly. "Let us cross to see what anime to gain more time for another reason. In that moment I hated my brother, for the total failure was a matter of seconds.
detained at the metal curtain "Japanese darning." As the shock of Lucrezia, the new employee dining room, the curtain was a tough wave perfection. There was a door in it, and I thought maybe my brother is interested. I managed only to say: "Look ...
-And make the play.
He was a noise inside. Frightened, we took off across the street, watching the door open. He left a small man, lean, yellow-eyed, braces, then began locking the door. We were huddled next to a lamppost, staring face. Passed along and we smiled. We followed with his eyes until doubled in the next street.
muted. Only when he spent a cotton candy vendor went out of our dreams. I, who had a weight, and it was feeling great affection for my brother for having succeeded in showing off before him, bought two lots and offered a wonderful pink substance. Pensive, I thanked her head slowly and went home. No one had noticed our absence. Fernando took to reach the volume of "Pinocchio in China" and began spelling carefully.
Years passed. "China" was long and bright colored lining in a dark coat. I used to go back to the imagination. But gradually I started to forget, no reason to fear, fear of failure there in some form. Later, when the world lost interest Pinocchio, our professor of box led us to a theater inside the street: we should not only learn to hit hard, but with art. Old was recently released pants and the first cigarette. But this part of the street was not "China." Moreover, "China" was almost forgotten. It was even more important to see in the "Encyclopedic Dictionary" Dad's words at school whispered the great laughs.
later entered the University. I bought black-rimmed glasses.
At this time, I realized that mostly take care of long hair was a sign of class, he would return to that street. But it was not my street. It was no longer "China", but nothing in it had changed. Going to old bookstores in search volume prestige to my library and my intellect. He saw the evening on the piles of fruit on the kiosks and display cases, mannequins dressed up with wax, it could not have existed. I was interested in only the dusty shelves full of books. Or the famous silhouette of a man of letters who rummaged among them, quiet and private. "China" had disappeared. I do not remember having looked, not once in all this time, the sign of "darning Japanese."
later left the country for several years. One day, on my return, I asked my brother who was then a student at the University, where he could buy a book that interested me particularly, and could not find it anywhere. Smiling, Fernando replied:
-In "China" ...
And I did not understand.
Aircraft 
China 
