Author: Tomás Barceló
Long ago, when tribes still lived in caves, there was one clan that made its home near a hill. Each night, the men, women, and children would gather around a large bonfire to share their evening meal in complete silence. The crackling of the flames and the soft song of the wind were the only voices that accompanied their dinner.
Among them lived a little girl named Kala—small, curious, and always wide-eyed at the wonders around her. One afternoon, as she wandered near the river, she saw something that filled her with awe: a blue flower, tiny and delicate, growing all alone between the stones. She had never seen anything so beautiful, and her heart was instantly captivated.
That night, as the tribe ate in silence, Kala couldn’t stop thinking about the flower. She looked at the serious faces of her people, focused on their food, but the image of the flower still pulled at her heart. So, despite the reverent silence, Kala spoke:
“Today I saw a blue flower… it was so pretty,” she whispered, barely audible.
Only a few heard her, but no one looked up. The younger ones paid her no mind, and the elders, weathered by time, kept chewing without reacting. To them, a flower was just a flower.
Kala felt her excitement flicker for a moment—but she spoke again, this time with more intention:
“That flower,” she said, grabbing a handful of grains, “was about the size of one of these. And its color! It was like the sweet juice of the blueberries we gather when summer is kind.”
A couple of children lifted their heads, intrigued by the mention of blueberries—the treat everyone waited for during the season. Kala noticed their curious looks and felt encouraged to go on.
“And its petals…” she continued softly, “were like the thin layers of dough we knead for tortillas. So delicate, so soft. But when the sun touched them, they shimmered like the oil dripping over meat—full of life. So light, the wind moved them the way it moves the flames of this fire.”
The hunters, who until then hadn’t paid her any attention, began to listen. After all, food was a serious topic. If this flower had something to do with meat, tortillas, or oil—maybe it was worth listening to.
Kala took a breath and let her mind drift back to the moment she had found the flower, as if she were seeing it again.
“When the wind passed through its leaves,” she said, “it gave off a soft scent, like freshly baked bread. But its fragrance wasn’t strong—no. It was subtle, like the first taste of honey melting in your mouth.”
Kala shifted her voice—first gentle and delicate, then warm and deep. As she spoke, her hands moved gracefully, mimicking the swaying of petals in the wind, and her body followed the rhythm, as if she were the flower dancing. More of the tribe now watched her. Even the elders were listening.
Kala lifted one of the berries they were eating that night and said:
“It was like this berry, but instead of red, its color was a deep blue—like the clouds at the end of a storm. And in its center, a drop of thick honey, the color of the sun as it sets behind the mountains.” Her arms traced the shape of the petals in the air, and as she moved them gently, the tribe’s eyes followed her gestures, mesmerized.
The air around them seemed to grow lighter. Some of the children smiled, the hunters watched with interest, and even the elders nodded in silence, enchanted.
When Kala finished speaking, the silence returned—and the tribe continued eating. But it was not the same silence as before. The blue flower, and Kala’s voice, seemed to float among them.
The next morning, just as the sun peeked over the horizon, Kala went out early to the river. As she walked the path where she’d seen the blue flower, something made her stop.
From a distance, she saw a few members of the tribe lingering near where the flower grew. Among them were some of the roughest in the group—men of few words, always serious, always focused on work and hunting. One of them, pretending to sharpen his spear, glanced sideways at the spot where the flower was. Another picked up stones, but his eyes kept drifting back to that same little corner.
They didn’t say anything. They didn’t go near the flower. But they were there. And when they noticed Kala’s presence, they drifted away, each offering a different excuse.
Kala watched them from afar—and smiled.
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