Permanecía constante y oportunamente, acechado por gélidas fantasías oníricas: flotaba la mirada apacible de su madre, entre los cielos giratorios, sobre los torbellinos fríos de intensas madrugadas sin estrellas, sin lunas. El anhelo real de largas caminatas, por las ruinas de cíclicos y altos puentes tétricos de antiquísima madera, nido de sonoros zumbidos, emitidos por verdes y luminosos insectos. El recorrido infinito le conducía a la blanca y silente playa de un mar negro congelado entre penumbras. Parado sobre sus piernas, en vilo, como un ingrávido ángel azul, podía pintar libremente a las barandas ballenas en descomposición, a los drakkar y los snekkar vikingos.

A los 49, convaleciente más allá de la razón, atragantado por el vino ácido del infortunio, con los gusanos radiactivos de agresión doméstica, hubo fenecido. Más tarde, cementerio de Glasnevin, Dublín.

THE EXTREME CHRISTY BROWN

Paralyzed, he lived more in his fiery mind than in his atrophied body. It is not so at all; dissatisfied, he captured on canvases and parchments, the best version of his exalted being. Physical limitations did not define his impetus. The lilies of the soul bloomed wildly through the spellings in ascending spirals. For long hours, the portraits were persistently outlined with the brush of dark ink, guided by the vibrant Left foot. Overcame boredom, exceeded the limits of human incapacity. # He remained constantly and opportunely, haunted by icy dream fantasies: his mother's peaceful gaze floated among the revolving skies, over the cold whirlwinds of intense early mornings without stars, without moons. The real longing for long walks, through the ruins of cyclical and high gloomy bridges of ancient wood, nest of sonorous buzzing, emitted by green and luminous insects. The infinite journey led him to the white and silent beach of a frozen black sea between shadows. Standing on his legs, in suspense, like a weightless blue angel, he could freely paint decaying whale railings, longships, and Viking snekkars. # At 49, convalescing beyond reason, choked by the acid wine of misfortune, with the radioactive worms of domestic aggression, he had died. Later, Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin.

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