You never know when it's wrong. A few months ago. I had a press conference in Donostia and the works of the highway left me a fair time to arrive in time. I didn't think twice and walked into the hotel parking lot. Sounded, I said I was going to the press conference and they opened the door to me without asking anything else. But there were no press conferences at the hotel. A course for social workers and a meeting of a Finnish company was planned. Nothing from my press conference. Then I realized I went to the wrong hotel. I left the pedestrian door and went to the other hotel, leaving the car there. And I think in life we often get something like this: we're in the wrong place, but we don't tell anyone that, just in case, we'll be embarrassed. When I finished the press conference and went to search the car, I wanted to stay there. Because I often need to be anywhere else, except here, at present. I had a coffee in the bar. I wasn't in a hurry and I was hoping to find someone, perhaps the girl in my poems, who had a green bikini. But the people we haven't seen look like times when we haven't lived. They never wait for us.