Los papeles de Boris

My training with Mio [1] continues. It’s such a privilege. Once again his infinitive nature flow guided me to another insight. It was some days ago when Marcus and him came to the house for a chat. At some point Mio shouted “Look at this!” and both Marcus and I turned to see it. He was poining into some kind of a giant bee that was lying on the floor wits its legs up to the air. “What’s it called?” I asked him, while forcing my neurons to come up with this simple question in my rudimentary Swedish. In a very calm voice, Mio answered something indistinctive so I had to ask Marcus to help me out with the translation. Hi s answer was simple, as life. “ It’s dead. It doesn’t have a name ”, he said. A sharp wood like bang penetrated deep inside my memory loving mind. “Of course they don’t!” I realized. His voice carried the sound of an apple falt on the ground. So much time I have wasted holding on to the names that have long gone. The time that I have wast