From Die Geheimen Aufzeichnungen Marinas (the Secret Notebooks of Marina)

The world began. Mr. Biformity and Mrs. Discord were the first couple. The woman bore four sons: Smoking Mirror, Feathered Snake, Southern Hummingbird, and Painted Bell. Each of them took on a post from which he could oversee everything and fasten the sky to his head. With their feet the brothers paddled the earth as if it were a crocodile. But first, Feathered Snake and Smoking Mirror had to separate Earth and Sky from one another. The Earthsky lay there like a terrible monster, snarling in all directions. The brothers turned into giant snakes and burrowed enormous tunnels in its body. Then they lifted one half up high. This was the sky. The other half they left lying. Its body became the Earth's surface. Its hair became her plants, trees, and tall grasses. Its skin became her short grasses and undergrowth. Its eyes became her wells and springs. Its mouth, her rivers and caverns; its nose, her valleys and mountains. Once she had been formed in this way, at night, the Earth began screaming. She wanted human hearts to feed on. And until she was given this meat, she refused to settle down; and until she was saturated with human blood, she refused to bear fruit. And she remained a famished, insatiable Earth. I am trying to decipher a text that accompanies the drawings on the Codex Mendoza. I zoom in on a reddish-brown warrior costume, complete with a pointed bonnet and a shield decorated with geometric figures and feathers. The ancient letters are intertwined; I click on them and the Spanish appears: in Times Roman. I open the translation window and before my eyes an unfamiliar hand writes the characters on the screen as if they were appearing there for the first time: Warrior Costume, Striped, Gold Clasps, Gold Shield, Gold Nose-plate, Value: 200 pesetas. Tribute from the Province of Chalco. I click over to the next page. Lienzo de Tlaxcala. A wooden chair floats above Malinche's head; in it, Cortes is sitting, a long feather in his hat. Malinche points at the gifts, beautifully woven, snake-patterned fabrics. Is she trying to explain to her master how and of what the cloth is made? Is she telling him how many days it takes to extract the fibers from the agave and spin them into threads, where the plants grow, which dye to use, and who the masters of ornamentation are? Malinche is wearing a cape over her long dress. I click on it and bring the fabric up, so close I can see the individual threads. I continue clicking and a drawing appears, a vivid watercolor, which tells me that Malinche is barefoot when she stands before the First Deputy, when he meets Cortes. Here again is a representation of the opposition of metal and flesh, silver and red. The translator holds her head bowed low. I imagine Marina searching in the wardrobe for one of Curt's old suits, and for a hat. How she disguises herself, ties the too-wide trousers tight around her waist with a leather strap, how she works the brim of the hat until a shadow covers almost half her light-brown face, and the light fabric of the trousers falls over her bare, sandalled feet. She hitches the old rucksack over her shoulder, in a hurry to leave. Plunges into the thick, dusty swelter of the city. The air is steaming with liquor and sweat. Marina hears a blaring sound. A brass band turns the corner, passes by her, playing a march. A few people are walking behind it. Turning and dancing. They shout, some with bottles of liquor or vodka in their hands. Some are throwing cornmeal and confetti in all directions. A handful of bright yellow dust finds its way on Marina, too. She has to cough; the sidewalk is covered with powder and empty and broken bottles, colorful paper ribbons, cans and plastic cups. She tries making her way toward the airport. No one takes notice of her in her costume, just as she hoped. She just has to make sure that she doesn't get too close to anyone, doesn't bump into anyone and start a fight. There's certainly no question that people can see her, but she's in camouflage. …