That night Rogelio Díaz had arrived home late. (His watch is slow,                        his watch is slow,                                              The first thing he did when he arrived was to go to the bathroom, where he expelled some discomforts that he kept in his stomach (he had been keeping them for too long, because of the clock-clock that is delayed) Then he went to his bedroom and there he began the long and rugged task of being him again. (He hadn't been him for too long) He began to undress, every garment he took off he folded and kept neatly in place. First it was his jacket, then the shirt, shoes, socks, pants, etc. and each piece of his clothing that came out of him was worth a little strength, a little joy that was contained in him, (hidden, hidden towards too much clock-clock). He continued undressing was actually, as he had been born.   (For too many hours - hours that he was not born) and there began the pagan ritual, began the torture of searching for himself, inside him, he truly existed. (It had truly existed for a long-long time).   He took the gazelle skin from under his bed, sat on it, and concentrated down to the bone depths. Then it vanished.   He woke up the next morning like any other (The clock-watch screamed at him with its ring ring). His house, his furniture, his clothes, everything was the same as he had left it the night before, but something had changed, Rogelio sensed, since the things he now had seemed to be reflected, inverted. (This he realized when he went to his desk to continue the notes he had left the night before and saw, astonished, that all of his writings were inscribed from right to left; but when he discovered that they were perfectly legible and that when he wrote , he also did it from right to left calmed down and blamed the night).   Calm, believing that what he saw was reality, he continued living. Little by little things were losing reality, they were diluted, they became intangible. A rough suffering made him think that what he was living was a dream, that things were still real (Concentration - concentration had affected him). But the change had already started and soon visitors began to fall. At first they were people that Rogelio thought he remembered, having seen before (he would soon realize that those who visited him were dead dead), later unreal beings began to arrive: nymphs, elves, angels and sphinxes visited him. At first she was amazed but later (custom-custom is a bad adviser in these cases) she adjusted to the new reality. Every day I found something new in the house. Sometimes he saw - or thought he saw - little people in his coffee cup; other great naval battles in your mate (battles-naval battles between legendary ships) or blood on the floor. But of all that really astonished him was when when he turned on the water tap 1 an enormity of flesh, blood and guts fell: From that day on he understood that something had changed. He tried to remember what, when, but couldn't. He wanted to take refuge in reading, in his library, but he couldn't read anything; now the characters had been changed by other murky ones. He wanted to run away from home, but he could not find the way out (It was ironic, but he had not noticed-noticed the changes: he saw them but did not notice them, now he realized that he was not in his house-house, that nothing of what he took was his, nothing he saw, nothing,                                                               nothing,                                                                       nothing) He was locked in his own home, in a Cretan labyrinth (why Cretan Cretan?). They no longer visited him but in the corridors he found people, now strangers. He soon discovered that they were fleeing him, that they were afraid of him. They looked at him. to the face and fled in horror. He tried to see himself in a mirror, but couldn't find it. He then remembered that everything was reflected and he thought that a mirror to reflect what was reflected would be implausible (Then he would realize that everything is possible; that everything) His voice, which had been wide, was then reduced to a rude low.   Everything changed without realizing it, almost (we always change ¬ change, but we do not realize when the changes have already happened and we remember ourselves and see that we are not what we were, that we are not) and soon he became a fabulous animal, a minotaur and his house the labyrinth. That is why he could not find the way out (This he learned one night - a distant night, when his animal instinct made him kill a young virgin. When he saw her blood run on the floor and thanks to the moonlight, he was able to reflect and understand it. everything, in a bloody mirror, even to his watch that no longer slows down                                     that is no longer late                                                              that no longer delays ...)