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A few weeks ago I read an interview with the neuroscientist Mariano Sigman in a Jot Down magazine What do I find at home? It left me amazed. I didn’t know Sigman at all, so I Googled his name to find out more about him. At that moment I received a message from the writer Jacobo Bergareche: he was at the house of a very interesting friend of his who I should know, his name was Mariano Sigman, my name had come up in the conversation and they encouraged me to have a drink with them.
Lately I don’t sleep for hours, but for songs. I put on a song I like, leave it to chance on Spotify, and when I wake up, I find out other songs I slept on. I recently put the angel simon by Nacho Vegas. When I woke up, La Bien Querida was playing. Then I went to the La Mistral bookstore from Madrid a participatory in an act on Pío Baroja. At the end, the editor Pilar Álvarez and I sat on a terrace, Christina Rosenvinge stood with us and the three of us went to have dinner. On the way, Rosenvinge said that the first time she was at a Nacho Vegas concert, the song that impressed her the most was the angel simon. The day before I wrote La Bien Querida to tell me that she had come across me in La Mistral. “I was coming home and I saw you,” she put; I was amused because at that moment this verse by Fito Páez was playing at home: “I saw you, you gathered daisies from the tablecloth”, and I told her so, it is in writing.
I woke up last Friday with vampire city by Nacho Vegas and I was humming it half the morning. I told a friend about the wonder of this verse: “And you see werewolves when there is a full moon / But dawn comes and they die of grief”, and then we went to drink wine in front of Silgar. I took The voice of Galicia and on the first page I opened the newspaper, I saw the signature of Diego Ameixeiras and his article, of which I took a photo. It was titled Homes and mulleres lobo when there is lua chea, and he tells, in the first paragraph, that he has got into his head vampire cityby Nacho Vegas, and he quotes the verse that I had quoted an hour before.
Anyway. On March 22, published in a column titled sorry i slipped about a scene from the movie once upon a Time in America. There was nothing current about it; It was a reflection on childhood and innocence based on a scene from a film released in 1984. That same day she received an email from Juan José Millás. There was a column the same day I wrote it, but I didn’t write it, I was going to publish it. He sent it to me so I would know why. see title I slipped and writes of the same scene in the same movie.
At first I thought all these coincidences were death tightening its noose through tighter, more implausible chances, as if the combination of millions of chances of things happening had been drastically reduced, exhausted by the time I had left. : Luck, exhausted, cast the few cards it already had and, of course, many matched up. But these days, watching the full moon rise at full speed in A Lanzada, I thought about the impressive things that happen to us and how difficult and exciting it is to tell them, about how strange and exciting it is to live in a world that has no answers for everything. nor for everyone, in the uncertainty and happiness that comes from not knowing, never, in any way, what will happen tomorrow.
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