Saturday, March 5, 2011
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I went to Madrid to see and hear Florence Delay. Someone asked that since his book a work border, mixing genres, blah, blah, blah, what was the best way to read it. "Leaving aside (for côté) and living life." Great style! A guy with "hair-of-antonio-abad approached me at the end and says softly:" It has been said by you, you're not able to distinguish anything, and you bet long on the books and death ". Do not believe me? I also thought to be hallucinating but those were his exact words, one by one. Even gave me her address on a paper if I wanted to go green tea with him home. I scribbled it on a dirty sheet I have in my possession and is available to any believer who wishes to see it. Behind the street and the number of portal and floor added this in capital letters: "YOU ARE A COWARD AND YOU LOSE THE BEST OF LIFE." Just what I needed: an excess of rhetoric and aggressive as well, can not stand the stress or in the event that one is right. I acknowledge however that for the hotel I was traumatized. And I can not think of anything better to stop for dinner at a Thai called Thai Carrefour and is in Calle Fernando VI. I grabbed a good basis of shots. And then the nostalgia bit me and gave me a black wound in the soul. The waiter, a Filipino who never stopped smiling all night, was the worst part: I do not know how it happened but when I brought the check I swore that if you did not remove the damn smile on his face did not pay for dinner. The next morning, before catching the train back to Pamplona, \u200b\u200bI went through the Expo Chardin in the Prado Museum. My performance there was even more pathetic. Again like a killing time early retirement. Now playing solve the puzzle of the seven errors. I devoted myself exclusively to find the different blues in the tables. I found them everywhere, in jars, in the bonds of the hair, the ingots of books on the side of a drawer of a chest of drawers lacquered china red, in the lining of the famous tobacco and even, as in L'Enfant au Toton, interviewed in the lining inside a snuff colored coat. For a moment I thought I wonder. He could not see anything beyond. No doubt he read Rilke's letters to his wife, but it was clear that he had taken from them the least education. The top of the child was a hundred times more alive than I am. 
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