Episode I: Letterboard

Episode I: Letterboard

///

I dream with letters. It’s real. Well, as much as a dream can be (a lot, in my modest opinion). As a child I had a recurring fantasy: while lying on my back on the bed I imagined myself as a lost Lilliputian between letters the size of Gulliver, letters that reached the ceiling of my room and that made up the silly words with which I was learning to read and write. "Marisa-kneads-the-mass". Astute connoisseur of my dreams and my nightmares, my mom made me a gift that I still have: an “imprentilla” (little press), as she called it, that was a set of rubber types that could be mounted on plastic guides and it allowed you to compose complete sentences. It was used as a stamp on paper and I played at being the editor of a newspaper. If someone still doubts that there is something similar to the soul of things, I offer the imprentilla as proof: it is one of the cheapest and most valuable possessions I own (along with the typewriter that belonged to my grandfather, ¡blessed letters! ) and somehow determined that many years later I became a writer and journalist. Although we will never know what came first, the chicken or the egg. I dream with letters. I compose imaginary typographies, I write mental announcements, I design posters that do not exist. And among my new fetishes is the billboard with removable letters. The classic black background design with white characters refers to the posters of the old bar on the corner of the school (which no longer exists) that offered sandwiches and submarines in an incomplete alphabet: I remember that the galician, for some mysterious reason, lacked the "i"s and replaced them by ones. "SANDW1CHES". "SUBMAR1NOS". In my house now there are posters everywhere but two of them are the most important. One is in the kitchen, next to the coffee machine, and explains the types of coffee I can prepare for a visit (espresso, sliced ​​or cappuccino: do not take me out of that). And the other one is in the library, next to the books, and shows the last names of my favorite authors of this month. It is logical, as much as a dream can be: those of us who fantasize about letters are excited to write and read.

///