So far, I've had a very irregular relationship with film, it's been like the Guadiana River: the times I've seen a movie every day have alternated with other times that I haven't seen anything.

When I started studying film in Paris, I took the habit of writing on a page the films I saw. Every week, I acquired the habit of shopping at L’officiel or Le Petit Parisien, which offered a broad programme of cinemas of the city that crosses the Seine River, and which I intended to see in the publication to mark it with ballpoint pens. In addition, every month he read Cahiers du Cinema. In the first year of study, I saw a hundred films. The billboard gave me the opportunity to fill my film gaps, as along with the new films you could see the beginnings of Truffaut, Godard and company, of Nouvelle Vague.

After a year as a student and a refugee in Paris, like so many other things, I lost that list when I also had to drop out of school. I have only been left with the title and memory of some of the films I saw then, Le diable au corps de Bellocchio, 27 hours from Armendariz, Le thé au harem d’Archimède de Cherif, among others.

Since then and in a handful of years later, the chances of watching a movie in the movie theater can be counted with the fingers of two hands.

I remember that, after an unrelated date, I had to make time in a city and at dusk walking through the streets I could make my movements suspicious when I came to see the Titanic (David Cameron, 1997). Although I hate it, to get to the new date on time, I had to leave before finishing the film, to myself, dildo, “Anyway, I know how it ends.” After a while we realized that a police service had dragged me to the movies and from there we had followed up to the hideout. Although we had to leave the hiding place, we saved ourselves from it.

After a few months, being in a new hideaway, one of us rented the tape in a video store and planned to see the Titanic at home. I paused with curiosity because not only did I get close to the boat, but I was also curious about what was going on. That time I saw her to the head. But within a few days, we had to rush to abandon the hiding place. Since then, on the idea that this film brings me the whale, I've heard the song of the Titanic or Celline Dion and I've become nervous. In the end, without the Titanic having anything to do with me, they took me.

In jail, there's usually not a lot of movies to watch. However, in recent years of prison, thanks to special resources, I not only had the opportunity to watch films, but also new production series (Breaking Bad, The Handmaid's Tale..). Every day I slept watching a movie and one or two chapters of a series.

When I think back to that time, I see myself as Alex, the protagonist of mechanical Orange, who is holding them back with his eyes forced open. In my case, in the vain attempt to numb the brain through images and forget the environment.

So in two and a half years after I got out of jail, I haven't seen more than a dozen movies. I've felt nauseous on my home computer or on my friends' computer at the possibility of watching a movie on a big Home screen.

And I haven't really wanted to go to the movies either.

69. But when I found out about Zinemaldia, I began to feel a sudden starvation of film. I took the show and listed the films that I intend to watch in the nine days that the event lasts, as I was once with L’Officiel in Paris.

Now, at least, after watching the movie, as I used to do in the past, I'll be able to turn around and sit looking at the sea, with eyes disproportionately open.