Are you crying? Were you not postmodern at that time? The bank mate was talking to me about the '80s, because we're all bored to remember that time, okay, but the truth is that we were watching Oskorri directly for the last time, in Vitoria, in Mendizorroza, on the tour, a couple of months ago, and maybe for the fifth time... the eye representative couldn't even see the tears that were passing through my house, like a hurricane. How not, therefore, those of the post-publication generation (by liquid thinking), if our friends a little older were infallible always and on any issue, thanks to the reading – apparently – of four or five books – or two hundred – on Marxism – or environmentalism, and to forgive if I have gone through the branches, but Natxo itself had failed in the dogmas of the songs we talked about between other decades.

An amazing experience is Oskorri's farewell! If I had known how far I could have moved, I would have gone to all the concerts. The one in Vitoria – Natxo, over and over again – was very good at all levels. Musical and spiritually, from beginning to end. The people gathered inside, listening to these songs, or dancing, yes, but I'm also, with an inscrutable mystery, because not only did we have the last recital, but the last Oskorri pilgrimage, when the word of Natxo, the same preacher -- you have self-definition.

It occurred to me that I had to be completely calm.

This is how we feel many, both post and pre, at the festival.

These songs, last heard live, repeated thousands of times, produced for the first time the benefit of the dark past, the transformative joy that provided the promising future that was beginning to grow, both of a beautiful and very distant sensation, as if they had reappeared in us as an eternal present or lost, and hence also tears.