We had to go to the Mundane Lake of Guido Senpe. Improved weather this year, well served. And I think it's a good metaphor for Erroai, which Berri reproduces in song. And freer from the addictions of the songs when they are created than he is, I resemble Sunday’s walk to the wetlands of the one affected by the drought. I wish we could direct our steps from the Ari, the Ari, the Ari, from the Toquero Desert President, to the prisoners’ homes on the oasis, although we are aware that from there the sea is farther away than in Cameroon. Even in the clumsy camel of Pausaje, the road is made with the gepes as companion, direction and intermediate destinations. From the wet to the wet, from the supply to the energetic supply, if we think about the beach of life that we are about to create, the third generation in backpacks. Looking back, there have been no shortage of past droughts, invisible droughts, landscape holes like the watchtower, desert incinerators. From door to door, from neighborhood to neighborhood, from village to village, from valley to valley desert for the descendants of wetlands to reach and enjoy the sea, so that our walk has a refreshing meaning. What a relief for those of us who are legally playing the fourth quarter in basketball.