I realized today of the benefits of writing in the morning, I mean, after a good rest. You see clearer, you think better, you enjoy double... Believe it or not, this is what I have to say today. I still hold strong opinions on global or irrelevant issues, but lately I have found ways of venting them and it turned to be much more exciting to play not to be a smart ass.
The writing of Antonio Gala is great, I have already said it before. I have thought that it would not be very difficult for me to imitate his style but, still, it would not be an original, fresh style. He had "his heart and his brains", and an opened breast to meet and embrace life. That's all you need.
I was in the Museum of London today and enjoyed it a lot; certainly, I did it more than any other I have visited till the date. Someone, a friend, E., a smart girl, suggested this song here, after a sort of conversation: Desiderata, Ehrmann's poem, perhaps, Baz Luhrmann, doubtless, all comes to mind. (Have you noticed the similarities between both last names?). I had three pints of beer today, traveled in the tube, walked down the Southward as well, and laughed openly, widely, loudly with Gala's book. I spend three quarters of the day with people I just met or hardly, very hardly knew and saw the sunset from a very unexpected and beautiful -precisely, for being unexpected- place. I guess that's all it counts at the end of the day.
The Spanish team is doing great in the Eurobasket, I read. I am glad about it, but I know this is what I am exactly missing: the late afternoons or evenings at home, watching the game on TV, listening to the commentators, the Spaniards who were glorious in the past, who holds the myth, the old and even the dead, all the ones exhibit a magical ability to bring simple joy and amusement.
(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).
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