living in Madrid since 1978, more or less, the first time I came I directly to the Puerta del Sol, a library named Fernando Fe, I think, and I took a side cover salad that tasted like glory. Then I went to Gijón coffee, which he had read so much, and I stayed there awhile, watching people come and go, until then followed the story I have ever written and now I will not return. What I wanted was to write a bit of Madrid this morning, chances of life, took that journey again, beating now public works, dodging cars, living a new amósfera Madrid just not go on forever, but in every moment of this trip much more rugged, and more usual, I lived many years before I found myself happy, as if visiting again a pleasant, open city that opened my eyes as the gift of a good experience. Recently someone asked me where I would be such a day, and I hesitated a moment, because in fact I travel a lot, but finally said, in Madrid. And I was weird, I found it strange the name of the city, but above all I was startled by the uncertainty that I got the name, all feelings were rare, as if a lifetime in a place that I never quite accustomed. And chances are that you never quite get used to the new site, still one, says Samuel Beckett , who left the island. But it seems ungrateful to Madrid, this city of so much bad press, the image is so diluted, the site that everyone raves, but she has received throughout the world as if we were all here. That I felt this morning, while wandering around town and saw her work injury, febrile helpless under the canopy of autumn, dedicated to looking their trenches as if looking for a new dress to be offered to young people who follow many years after tour of the place they dreamed while read a book in which he spoke of Madrid. RUIZ JUAN CRUZ
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