He worked in the circus as a strong man.
His life was spent bending bars, lifting weights, juggling bowling balls.
He grew a handlebar mustache and practicing shouting ‘Hup!’
That lasted a week before he shaved and went back to a dignified silence.
He had killed two people, a man and a woman, years ago, unintentionally.
He was hiding in the circus.
The only one who knew was the clown Bopo.
He used to live with Bopo, until he discovered that he talked in his sleep.
He liked Bopo. Bopo liked gin.
It was an easy relationship.
He had a trailer to himself.
Because he was handsome and strong and silent, women would sometimes come to his trailer.
Men would come sometimes, too.
Neither bothered him much.
The circus always left soon afterwards.
He was afraid of the woods, and the dark, and thunder.
They reminded him of the man and the woman.
Everyone at the circus liked him.
He was called “Bandillo”, but that wasn’t his real name.
Even Bopo didn’t know his real name.
He had forgotten his real name.
He hoped everyone had forgotten his real name.
He understood his strength as gentleness, and so was gentle.