Our grandmother called him kajaorrosa, then the dementia hit him, the words have happened the same thing to him, they have forgotten what they meant. I remember how they explained to us in the ikastola where the word bank came from. It was the place where Jews sat in the markets. A stone table with green sheets that prepared money for people, old currencies that changed and so on. The Bank was therefore a table.

Now it's a chair, a chair on the edge of a window, and on the other side a precipice, underneath some flowers. Every situation has its truth, and I would not fail to say that the activity of the usurers is criminal, first they sell a loan, then a person and then a house. But there is something else that makes me grow up, more so when I read that it has been the impulse of a person who has moved in the waters of socialism. Our almost unique existential sense is the material appropriation, the appropriation of a large house, and when they strip us of it, without mercy and also robbery, we commit suicide. That chair that stops at the edge of the window gives to sit and think.