All lives form my life: the lives of the poet,” Pablo Neruda said when he confessed that he lived (Seix Barral, 1974). And what is Pamiel's Upaingoa section if it's not a basket of tailor in which you can publish poems and hybrids and memories? And what is I remember, if it's not a botch, that a sensitive, invisible thread holds it exactly in the air?

I do not know, to tell the truth, if it is poetry I remember it, but it has been done to me, I have read it as such and I have enjoyed it in one reading. It's a book of steles from which, with all the successes and mistakes, we crossed the difficult decades of the 1980s and 1990s: “I remember Christina Rosenvinge,” or “I remember how many cops everywhere.”

Because we had the shy promise to blossom under the corpses of Ez Dok Amairu and Pott, and, look, we've already started writing the memoirs. “I remember the Swing bar,” “I remember eating raw pasta,” “I remember when you met you were with another.” Some memories are universal. Others are ours alone.

Aritz Galarraga has given a good tone of elegance and patronage to her evocation activity and naturally faces the very vacuum of the future: “I remember that I am no longer.” This book is a nonmelancholy saudade, a lie confession. In this way, each “memory” of this litany is autonomous and can generate a different echo in each of us. The most naive memory can be the deepest pure of time, and deep things can lose weight. There are records of love between the three words and there are worlds resolved in three. Aritz Galarraga knows how to laugh at herself and make her laugh as her heart cries. The white doors of Anglet's BAB2, the lightning sparks of Itoiz's rotaflex, Dogma 95 -- were years when I didn't remember Dogma's teachings that tricks and filters are prohibited. And that is that this book has been written using all the tricks and filters. The filter of distance, irony, ellipsis… everything perfectly handles Aritz Galarraga to tell the truth, to re-tell the beautiful idealized truth that we had taken as true when we had lived it.