This text begins with a reflection that takes place in the first hour of the morning, on the clear sky, in a lost town of Álava. Looking at the birds flying between this meadow and the mottled, lost thoughts in the forests that populate the mountains. But let's be honest, this is not Campos de Castilla.
I was once mixed, against my romantic desire, the timid sounds of the crickets and the unbearable hum of the cars, the useless singing of the birds and the squeaky deafening of the train, the silent glow of the stars and the gigantic focus of a trailer. I cannot say that I have come to enjoy nature, nor the opposite.
I have always liked the town, the countryside, or any nickname that we put the street people into anything other than the city. When I was growing up, I had an aspiration. “When I am older I will live in a farmhouse, I will take care of the animals and the garden, and I will live from what they give me.” I have no idea if I was an idiot or a genius.
As I turn the years have greatly reduced the days I spend in the village, because I have to work, because I am on vacation, because another plan has come to me… Any excuse is good for climbing an Alavabus and leaving the potato behind, because I know I will always have to go back.
"These are often settlements built over one solar year after year more arid, with a population year after year older, villages that are evicted year after year"
Maybe it's too daring. These are often settlements built over one solar year after year more arid, with a population year after year more aged, villages that are being evicted year after year. No school, no shop, no life. One bus every seven hours to Vitoria-Gasteiz, and three times a week comes the baker, we can't complain!
We have become accustomed to, or accustomed to, frenzy, and the tempo of those living outside cities can often be incomprehensible. Have to wait a bit to be able to do anything. There are things to learn.
This, in fact, is also the chronicle of an impotence. To observe with great esteem the peoples as they drown, the demographic Titanic. Touched, submerged. A few icebergs and everyone swimming on the ice to get a place. No shops, no services, no tavern! Just animals, nothing but donkeys.
I would lie, dear reader, if I confess to you, that it takes my dream to think what will happen in the future in this country, in these peoples. Knowing that it doesn't take my sleep away, that keeps me awake. Not for a long time. I pointed out the ideas that bloom in my house late in the morning and I rush to sleep the devil for my bad reputation.