was the night of 18 to 19 and the river was filled with people from different countries, genders, races and creeds. Everyone expected the moment of truth. The lights went out for a thirty giving way to a ghostly figures covering the sky. Igneous worms descended slowly, stately palms multicolor lighted the faces of the spectators. It succeeded circles, enclosures and power turning night into day and the darkness into light shooting. The rate was calculated to perfection, now piano, then alive and happy. The latest explosion caused the cheers of the audience.
for twenty glorious minutes there was no crisis. What crisis? Or unemployment, or mortgages to pay, no crime, no corruption, and terrorism. Perhaps there was a drunk and the smell of Mary was mixed with that of gunpowder. After the show the adjacent streets were flooded with bodies like the zombies of Romero, a stampede that led into the center certain to continue, others trying to hide in their shelters to rest.
The march continued and she reappeared camels in their slums, beggars in the parks, there would be a violation and the occasional fight. The failure to return soon end up in the real world, to Spain suffering and dying. The other Spain, the tambourine, lasted just twenty minutes. Some will stretch to the maximum limit, but nothing can take when you wake up with feet of clay.
survival should continue to reappear turn actors, comedians a new show, to convince us how great are the polls. Propaganda on the walls, hammering our few neurons megaphones, leaflets on the floor, TV spots, mass deployment of the system to erase our memory of the real. The people will return to close in on another festival that makes you forget the evils that afflict the country. Good for the teacher fireworks, who fulfilled his mission with great splendor, and great sorrow for the English people get carried away by the superficial.
LARRA
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