Susanna, Denmark

French Way from Villafranca del Bierzo.

“The other day, walking, a man from the village approached me, took me by the arm and said: ‘You are beautiful and I have neither wife, nor children. I’m worried that my house will be left to rot after I die. Can I show it to you? I think you’ll like it.’ When we entered the house —that house— I couldn’t simply believe my eyes: the walls were falling to pieces and everything was full of dirt; the floor cracked and had holes that you had to dodge, unless you wanted to fall through. The only clean thing was a religious icon of the Virgin and, even that, you can imagine, wasn’t exactly shining. I never thought anybody could live like that. He sat on the bed, patted it with his hand, and said: ‘Sit down, please, I want to talk to you. I want to give you this house.’ I looked at him, without getting any closer, and said, ‘I already have one, a house, in my country; in Denmark.’ ‘I don’t care.’ ‘And in that house, waiting for me, there is also a husband.’ ‘I don’t care about that, either.’ I turned around, picked up my backpack, and headed towards the door. He remained sitting —unmoving— and I think, feeling so sad, so devastated, that I could feel it in my bones. I don’t think he wanted anything suspicious from me. No ‘special services’ or anything. Only someone to look after his house, when he was gone. It’s weird but I think that, had I been younger —let’s say 30— and had I been stronger, I’d have, seriously, thought about his offer”