Spanish crisis, lack of illusions and the fall of hopes!
I gave up drinking three days ago and I’m fine. I’m not trembling and I haven’t seen any cockroach yet. I have to work and we must do it faster. I woke up at 7.30 and I was working all the morning and I haven’t find the desired result. Is Isabel going to kill me for this? I don’t think so, because I gave her many reasons to kill me before… and crisis and crisis and more crisis
Crisis! Writing is strange. Before, I needed inspiration to create something original… now it’s very different. I know I cannot write well in English but I’m trying it. The Spanish Publishing houses are dead and I need to change everything if I still want to publish novels… but there are not only the Publishing Houses… this world is changing so fast! I cannot get it like I did before. When I was at the University I thought that the world would be there ad aeternum, with no movement. Spain was wrong and the world hadn’t to say that it was true. In those years, we thought that the newspapers would live forever –it’s normal, we thought exactly the same for ourselves-. The radios, the TV… we would have a job for our whole lives and we would live more or less happy with our wives and husbands. We were blind, my old classmates! We forgot the great lesson and we had to learn it years after, when this world of liars and lies changed and turned into a no-return highway.
Crisis! Where are now our illusions? Where are now that friendly young enlighten world of justice? They’d taught us to defend the dreams, where the hell are they now? I can see a frustrated world, I can look back and even touch that world I will never be in, I can watch down and see, clearly, those smiling faces near the death.
Crisis! Maybe I can see the things clearest now or maybe not. The only thing I know –or not- it’s that when we forgot our illusions we forgot ourselves and this is, finally, the death of Humankind. People are made of water and muscles and brain and veins and particles and… what’s that more than nothing? What’s that more than material? What’s that more than illusions converted into material to demonstrate the infinite into a test tube? Are we just that? Are we just the dust that flies over the lost generations? Are we just the ashes of our parents? Are we just bodies to be dammed to this secure death? Where are we now? Who were we then? I was born in a lonely country of lonely tales of a lonely knight. But in some point of the road we lost his presence, Mr. Cervantes. Where are they now? We cannot recognize in the faces of Spanish people the roots of this country that, one day, could build an Empire and discover a new world. Have they stolen us our souls? Have they stolen us our homes and wives? No, they weren’t, my friends. We are guilty and we know, we are guilty of forgetting, we are guilty of unfeeling, we are guilty, at last, of giving up the illusions that create this land, the illusions to create art.
We are, at last, death.
Want to depress a little more?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008%E2%80%932012_Spanish_financial_crisis (at last Spain is in the Wikipedia, we’re proud!)