Part 1.
Dada
had big green eyes. She loved observing everything. Whatever caught her
attention, she would stare at for hours, unable to take her eyes off it. It was
as if she were trying to study its every detail, after which she would sit down
and draw for a long, very long time. She would also choose the perfect music,
put on her headphones, and immerse herself endlessly in her creation.
Dada
could not speak. She understood everything she heard perfectly well, but she
lacked the ability to voice her thoughts. Sometimes she would make certain
vowel sounds, and occasionally, instead of a word, a few syllables would slip
out; even then, it was completely unclear what she wanted to say. No one knew
whether she was born this way or if it happened later.
She
was not even ten years old when they found her in the woods, wearing nothing
but a nightgown. She would wander, watching the birds soaring from the woods
into the clouds, listening to their singing and following their voices. A young
lad, camped out in those very same woods, found her and brought her to the
Padrone.
Later,
the camp broke and moved on. There, they divided the stolen loot, and each went
their own way with their share of the spoils. The Padrone slung his satchel
over his back, took the girl in his arms, loaded the rest of the baggage onto
the young lad, and set off to begin a new life.
No
one knew where the child had come from or who she was; she only uttered a few
broken sounds:
"...da... da..."
That
was why they named her Dada in the camp, and the name remained ever since.
Only
the Padrone had an inkling of where the child might have come from. She was
likely a survivor from one of the estates they had raided, plundered, and
burned to the ground.
The
child paid special attention to certain objects, examining them much longer and
with greater intensity. Nothing escaped the Padrone's sharp, discerning gaze.
He knew well that the objects the child was drawn to had been taken from one
and the same house. Perhaps that was why, as soon as she was brought to the
camp, she easily grew accustomed to everyone and everything; in a world of
familiar objects, she felt more at home and, perhaps, far more secure.
For
a time, the Padrone was lost in thought, wondering whether it was dangerous to
keep this child with them. But every time the little girl noticed his intense
gaze, she would gift him with such a warm and selfless smile that the Padrone
would smile back, his heart filling with a strange kind of warmth. That was why
he trusted her to no one and took her with him; he settled in a completely
foreign land, a strange place, and declared the girl his own daughter. As for
the young lad, he was already a distant relative, so it was not difficult at
all to acknowledge him as a member of the family. In the beginning, they lived
together as one family.
They
lacked for nothing, but later, they parted ways. The young lad’s heart drew him
toward a busier, noisier city, and he moved there, though he visited them often
and would stay for quite some time.
Very
soon, the Padrone became a prominent landowner, respected and considered a
well-known, wealthy, and influential figure in that region.
Meanwhile,
Dada was growing up, continuing to live in her own world, caring for nothing
else in this life except painting and music. If she took a liking to any
object, she would find a place for it in her room. And her room was filled with
all those old objects which, as the Padrone suspected, might well have belonged
to Dada's own family back in the day.
Dada
adjusted easily to the new house and immediately set about decorating it.
First, she painted the walls and floors with ordinary paint, and the Padrone
returned to find every inhabitant of the estate smeared in color. The servants
watched with frightened faces. They were certain they would be reprimanded and
that the girl would be harshly scolded, but the Padrone laughed heartily. He
understood at once that the child loved to paint, so he set aside a huge room
in the house for her and filled it with countless art supplies.
Dada
would just sit and paint. Sometimes she was captivated by landscapes, other
times her eyes would linger on a portrait, and sometimes on the human form; she
would persist and coax them until she made them sit as her models so she could
paint them. The servants obeyed her—what choice did they have? They gladly
indulged the harmless whims of this harmless girl.
As
for the young man, he would watch Dada from afar, though at the very sight of
the Padrone, he would instantly avert his gaze. The Padrone noticed this
attention and disliked it intensely. He could not bear the thought of giving
his foster daughter away to a man with a past like the youth's; but if it were
Dada's own wish, then he would no longer oppose it.
But
Dada continued to live in her own world, and the young man's attention always
went unnoticed.
LEX · Thursday, January 28, 2016
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