A strange mix of José Sacristán and sat Hugo Varela front of me. Our common past, if it had rested on countless chat messenger who kept in memory any misunderstanding, many discussions and constant feeling that the other side was a young dreamer aged one day he decided to tell their nightmares generating In view of all an image not in keeping with what might spy behind the words.
I did not ignore that image, but after a telephone conversation, I decided not to risk my children to a meeting that could be dark, sad and potentially boring for them, in view of his kid and his mood would not be.
I think it was wise decision, even if it was successful, but not get ahead, go to the top. Sone
the doorbell several times with no response, as is my custom had been promised time and even figured I could not be, after all in that telephone conversation prior to the mania that bark in the distance that has not been shown much looking forward to the meeting. Tired of the bell, gave three knocks on the door and immediately heard a few steps and a hurricane that swept across the floor to finish at the bottom of the window watching. The father and son opened their doors to me much more than a house. I do not know how
long it takes to feel comfortable but should not have been much, because I can not remember a moment of discomfort. The mate came and went as words, while a plate of biscuits for fat raleaba.
I proposed order pizza and Manuel smiled happy, Fabio choripanes offered to go to eat and the dwarf gave him the right. "It's a Morasso" said proud dad. Choris not think that was a big deal (he says yes) but when we returned there was the best image of this first meeting: Manuel, Fabio and I walk embraced returned to the house. Even now I remember and the feeling was that of being a family (I would become a kind of guy). We talked
all, or a lot, but the talk is infinitely less important than I did.
imagined the encounter in many different ways, but several of them, hoping to find a guy up, as hopeless as his texts say, it was not. Fabio told, as so often, their misadventures and misfortunes ( only when it comes to economic ), but also told me of dormant projects that have generated some kind of light, but feels that it is not more than flame of a candle in the middle of the storm.
I think he, in part, is that a rider thrown to the ground by the horse, insulting as it prepares to rise again, even if you think it will be turned back.
'd say both father and son from their encounters and differences, their transparency and openness, their property and their best, their smiles and glances, their words and silences ... and me, with so many internal commotion. But I think enough to say that I can not imagine having gone better.
There was a second meeting, and with my family, with Ati and Nacho, but I leave for the next post.
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