I'm driving and I can't help but think of an interview by O that burns, by Oliver Laxe: the Piromano who just got out of jail goes back to his village, to his mother's house. Mother and child look at the trees, at the sick oak trees, and they talk about how the disease has come to them: the killer fungus that had been brought by a truck. Eucalyptus stands out about the oak trees. They have frequent roots, impoverish the land and impede the life of the surrounding vegetation. The mother says that what she suffers then makes her suffer, and she doesn't know if she talks about eucalyptus or her child. And it's true that there are a lot of people who hate eucalyptus. And it's true that the wounded are the ones who make the wounds deeper. I go by car and the song Piromanía de Anari comes to mind. “What you care so much to make it beautiful and true… But you too as the forest wants the fire…” And what are the casualties, or the causalities, the piromano of O that burns is forest guard in Galicia, and the father of a poet that follow: Xela Arias.