Unforgiving Whiteness
by Marcelo Medone
Wandering through unknown regions of the world, I arrived one day in Albinia, the white city par excellence. The oldest say that the city was not always white, a long, long time ago. I must confess that it has been the most disturbing and threatening city of all I have ever visited. It seems that Albinia is white by decree -although no one remembers when it was promulgated. Its current ruler, Emperor Albo, descends from an ancient and unquestioned lineage, which is lost in the memory of its inhabitants.
Everything in Albinia is the purest white. So much so that at night the moon makes the snowy stone streets shine as if it were day. The houses, the sidewalks, the parks, even the people's clothes are white. The decree of whiteness applies to both public and private purposes. The few unfortunates who dared to break the inflexible law were publicly executed immersed in tanks of quicklime; then their bleached bones were displayed for seven days and seven nights in the light of the sun and the moon.
Albinians wear white robes, white turbans, white kerchiefs, and white sandals. They even dye their hair, beard, and moustache white, hoping to reach old age and discolour naturally. Bleeding is an inconvenience that is not allowed and must be hidden immediately. Women, men, and even children wear white makeup on their faces. Their smiles are invariably white.
In Albinia, they ignore drawing or painting. Yet everywhere you will find wonderful sculptures of white marble and limestone. Its architecture, although it refers to white as the only colour, presents infinite variations in terms of styles and ornaments, displaying an inexplicable profusion of structures and motifs. Walking through its buildings, I believed more than once I’d found myself in other fantastic cities. I could only overcome the illusion by corroborating the absolute realm of white.
After four days and nights, in which I constantly feared for my life, I was invited to leave the city. Albinians do not welcome outsiders; only my white clothes saved me from the ordeal of lime.
I advise avoiding the road to Albinia. Its unforgiving whiteness can only bring misfortune.
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Marcelo Medone was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in 1961. He is a fiction writer, poet and screenwriter. His fiction and poetry have received awards and have been published in magazines and books, both in digital and paper format, individually or in anthologies, in multiple languages in more than 30 countries all over the world.
His first book, Nada Menos Que Juan (Nothing Less Than John), an illustrated story of the fantasy genre, won an international award and was published in 2010 in Spanish and Portuguese.
He currently lives in San Fernando, on the outskirts of Buenos Aires.
Facebook: Marcelo Medone / Instagram: @marcelomedone
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