Waco – It was a pleasant afternoon, filled with laughter, and time passed without thought of the hurricane and the coming storm.
She became very detached after the interview and we published it on-line, and she kept hinting it was time for me to go, but I lingered, just looking at her, measuring the tonality of her speech, the timbre of her voice, the extraordinary length of her limbs.
Suddenly, she whirled and put her face in mine, saying, as suddenly as ever, “We think we’re so important, our lives are so important, well, they’re not. You learn that down in Mexico.”
Then she nodded, looking up and to the left, as if to reassure herself – to assure herself – she didn’t leave her face behind when she took it out of my face.
She and her ex, the people’s lawyer, went there after the fall. Then they split up.
“I lived with the poor people, with the Mexicans, not with the Americans,” she said. “You learn from them.”
“What do you learn?” I asked.
“You learn that time and life and all that stuff are nothing. You learn that the Aztecs worshipped mongoloids, thought they were from outer space, and they’re not; they’re mongoloids.”
“You learn they executed the brilliant children, the ones who could think, sacrificed them and believed they were sending them to live in the stars, but they didn’t. They just killed them, that’s all.”
How does she know these things?
“I talked to people. I listened.”
Did she read?
“I don’t read in Spanish, but I speak it.
“I went to the pyramids.”
Verily, she does speak Spanish, and she did go to the pyramids, after the fall.