A friend told me I won't write anything about chaos at BER Airport (BER): Willy Brand Airport, Berlin (Germany). There may be a mysterious death linked to a corrupted matter. The committee that has been working for four years has already published its last report. Another friend has asked me when I'm going to deliver the article. Hearing that I have three days left, he advised me to forget that three days are not enough to analyse the circumstances of this airport project. Infected by the disgrace of the airport, I must see me delay the delivery of the item and postpone the infallible date of my delay again. So, forever. Let me have a committee to judge what has failed, but that, in the end, the article is not going to see the light. It seems that time has stopped around the airport ghost that I was going to open five years ago. It seems that they are waiting for a year when the wind is also stopping to extend what the airport of the European Centre of Power should be.

But men and young daughters, more or less, have to meet the deadlines, exactly the same as they have to pay the debts. To finish the project that I started with the words of a Muguruza song and save from being a column ghost, I went on vacation. To a landscape that could be Finnish, less than a hundred kilometres from that centre of power. It might be thought that time has stopped here too. The effect is totally different. It's not about failure, it's about the strength of nature. With the limited presence of our system, sensitive ecosystems regain their strength. Here he has been defeated by the forest and by a hundred lakes.

Our visitor, as he walked, has seen an old man making a field with his horse. Return unbeliever with a photo that will teach your friends. The visitor asks how it is possible that not all this environment is exploited industrially. Should everything be exploited? In capitalism, yes, it says, everything. Well, we're in a reserve, in a natural park. Nature's reserve becomes a paradise protected from capitalism. It seems that capitalism needs different kinds of paradises, those that put limits on it and those that give it encouragement. Of course, the latter are not designed for the smallest men and daughters.

The visitor’s photograph could suggest the retreat of a corner of a developed country. But the same peasant, over eighty years old, has told me that he puts his horse, from time to time, so that he does not forgive him too much, in the countryside. It's taught me the Mapatxe family that they've come to live in the barn. And a group of deer galloping through the path that goes between the forests. The stork will find a place to nest. The fishing eagle will plan on the lake. However, two last-minute swimmers will complain that there are fewer and fewer frogs nearby. Another sense of the word development grows by protecting spaces. You win another time.

I will leave the airport column unfinished by the end of the year. If certainty and permission disturb me no later than the following year. Why be in a hurry?