Madrid

Was tired, very tired last night. Now, luch time. Got 5 or 10 minutes to write. Running late, although I was up this morning way before 6. Beatiful sunny dawn in London.

***

For my coming back yesterday, I santified the old customs. It used to be a time when the trip Salamanca - Madrid was a mystery full of excitement. We used to move into the big metropoli to do something. The road and, mainly, the city was an enormeous unknown.

Afterwards, holding a job consisting in travelling most of the time, there was not a single stone in the highway retaining a pinch of mystery: the whole thing was degraded and secularized. And thus, I did my trip on the bus yesterday as in the old times.

Madrid was splendorous, in the sun and in the raging hail. El Retiro was at its best, fresh and splendorous. I saw dozens of young people perfectly able to work and produce and to fulfill themselves in the metro, most of them probably jobless. Dozens of them in the metro, a nice metro, ample and clean. I said to myself, don't they have to go to work? Are they working? If not, what a pity, why is it not anybody saying, I will help you do what you what, just do your thing. Being jobless in a jobless bubble is like to prostitute yourself, always and only thinking in how to sell yourself... And still, I insist, dozens of normal, fine, healthy, young, able people to work and produce... Jobless, troubled in the morning, in the metro.

What is it going on?

What a magnificent city Madrid is! In my Universe, the warmest, the coolest, the prettiest of all. No London -a worl-class town, the greatest shows on Earth, speak proud Londoners of themselves-, no London, no shit.

Ok, gotta go now... Took 15 minutes.