jueves, 8 de octubre de 2015

MADRID MY CITY






 


Today Madrid is a big city, nothing similar to the city I knew when I was a Young boy and walk round its streets and squares, in fact I can´t recognise this city of todeay less friendly than fourty or thirty years ago.

 





Every persons who came here to live, after some years it was a madrilean more, it doesn´t matter which part of the world she ot he was born, but even more after ten years or a Little more these people love the city as it was of them, their city by all means.
My parents came from Burgos when they were married already, I was the only one that was born in the city, the Little city then, but it was so nice, friedly, funny as always it was. They, my parents, seems madrileans after ten years living here.
The castellano language here sounds different, as in every land of Spain, but we talk so different that the language its called "castizo" because we use a lot of words and expressions that they are not used other parts of Spain.
We have our own music, "chotis", that is sing and dance in the feasts, but also our own Opera that here we call it "Zarzuela", it is similar to an Opera but its also spoken at the same time that the music sounds and the singers sing. I do love Zarzuelas, and despite there are these kind of music from all lands of Spain, Madrid has their own Zarzuelas where the way of speaking of "castizos" are the accent that is necessary to use.
The girls are called "chulapas" and the boys "chulapos" and all they have a peculiar way of being dressed, nice coloured garments and also the girls wear "mantones de manila" what is absolutely necessary for them if they wanted to be good dressed.
There are some Zarzuelas very funny and quiete a good music, several in fact, but some of the best known are "La Verbena de la Paloma", "La Revoltosa", "La Gran Via", "El Barberillo de Lavapiés". "Luisa Fernanda"...it was singed by the good Tenor Alfredo Kraus  Placido Domingo but also Javier Pons or Jose Carreras and some of the best sopranos or mezosopranos like Teresa Berganza, Nancy Herrera, Maria Rodríguez, and so forth.......







Once that O went to the theatre to attend to Luisa Fernanda, singed by Plácido Domingo it was sitting close near to me Alfredo Kraus, one of the best tenors to me, he was retired already and few months later he was dead, I was very sorry for him and his family.
Usually Madrid´s music is pleasant, bustling and cheerful just how madrileños are. Friendly nice people who take life easy, without too much troubles.
The city now it is quite different, all has changed to be a big European city, for good or for bad I really don´t know.
Life is different, hard, too much noise, millions of people from every where of the world, some of the áreas that was absolutely typical have changed drasticaly, for worst.
But time changes everything and this my city wasn´t an exception, no so much "castizos" "chulapas" or "chulapones" instead people from China, Equador, Maroc, Peru, Colombia, Nigeria, Argentina, Rumania, Russia, Ukrania, and thirty or more countries have taken their place.
At the end all these people will be madrileños too, that´s for sure, but it will take several years to be truth.
Now Madrid has the best Art Museums nearly from the World, as Thyssen, Prado, Reina Sofia, Picasso, Sorrolla, Caixa Fórum, Royal Palace, Descalzas, and so forth....
But also another kind of events that makes the city one of the first in Cultural event in Europe and other parts of the World...
I love and hate Madrid.
Why? that´s a mystery to me.

el gatufo
(by the way people that were born in Madrid are called "CATS"
some time ago....now I think it is different...why they are called Cats along history......that is another story to tell in future)

MADRID IS NOT OLYMPIC







Yes, Madrid wanted to be the Olympic City on the year 2020 but it wasn´t possible, every body knows it already, but in march when I wrote this there was hopes to get the goal.....
IT WAS TOKYO...........congratulations to Tokyo.....from Madrid.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Today Madrid is a big city, nothing similar to the city I knew when I was a boy and walk round its streets and squares, in fact I can´t recognise this city of today less friendly than fourty or thirty years ago.
Its a beautiful city, without any doubt, Madrid has some museums so good as el Prado, Thyssen, Reina Sofia, and parks as El Retiro or Casa de Campo.
Also there is the Royal Palace, Sabatini Gardens, Gran Via with its incredible buildings different from other cities of the world.
Years ago every person who came here to live, after some time it was a madrilean more, it doesn´t matter which part of the world she ot he was born.
At the end these people love the city as it was of them, their city by all means.
My parents came from Burgos when they were married already, I was the only one that was born in the city, the Little city then, but it was so nice, friedly, funny as always it was. They, my parents, seems madrileans after ten years living here.
The castellano language here sounds different, as in every land of Spain, but we talk so different that the language its called "castizo" because we use a lot of words and expressions that they are not used other parts of Spain.
+ + + + + + + +
We have our own music, "chotis", that is sing and dance in the feasts, but also our own Opera that here we call it "Zarzuela", it is similar to an Opera but its also spoken at the same time that the music sounds and the singers sing. I do love Zarzuelas, and despite there are these kind of music from all lands of Spain, Madrid has their own Zarzuelas where the way of speaking of "castizos" are the accent that is necessary to use.



The girls are called "chulapas" and the boys "chulapos" and all they have a peculiar way of being dressed, nice coloured garments and also the girls wear "mantones de manila" what is absolutely necessary for them if they wanted to be good dressed.
+ + + + + + + + +
There are some Zarzuelas very funny and quiete a good music, several in fact, but some of the best known are "La Verbena de la Paloma", "La Revoltosa", "La Gran Via", "El Barberillo de Lavapiés". "Luisa Fernanda"...it was singed by the good Tenor Alfredo Kraus  Placido Domingo but also Javier Pons or Jose Carreras and some of the best sopranos or mezosopranos like Teresa Berganza, Nancy Herrera, Maria Rodríguez, and so forth.......
Once I went to  the theatre to watch a Zarzuela called " Luisa Fernanda", singed by Plácido Domingo it was sitting close near to me Alfredo Kraus, one of the best tenors
Spain has for long.
Usually Madrid´s music is pleasant, bustling and cheerful just how madrileños are. Friendly nice people who take life easy, without too much troubles.
+ + + + + + + + +
The city now it is quite different, all has changed to be a big European city, for good or for bad I really don´t know.
Life is different, hard, too much noise, millions of people from every where of the world, some of the áreas that was absolutely typical have changed drasticaly, for worst.
But time changes everything and this my city wasn´t an exception, no so much "castizos" "chulapas" or "chulapones" instead people from China, Equador, Maroc, Peru, Colombia, Nigeria, Argentina, Rumania, Russia, Ukrania, and thirty or more countries have taken their place.
At the end all these people will be madrileños too, that´s for sure, but it will take several years to be truth.
Now Madrid has
 another kind of events that makes the city one of the first in Cultural event in Europe and other parts of the World...
+ + + + + +
MADRID WANTS TO BE AN OLYMPIC CITY ON THE YEAR 2020...
Will be it posible?
I love and hate Madrid.
Of course, I was born in this city.
Why? that´s a mystery to me.









(Puerta del Sol, it is the 0 km. of Spain because all the roads of
the Nation start here, like the centre of Iberian Península)
Greetings, 








el gatufo.

miércoles, 7 de octubre de 2015

RESPIRAR UN SUBLICIO




Respirar es un tormento constante, los pulmones estallan, la tos no cesa tratando de expulsar cuerpos extraños introducidos con cada bocanada de aire pestilente. 
La falta de oxigeno es angustiosa, el corazón se acelera al máximo y temo que en cualquier momento sufrir un infarto. 
Mi compañero es mucho mas fuerte y acusa menos la extenuación que siento en mis músculos, no siento los pies, mis piernas rígidas como palos dudo que me sigan manteniendo por mucho tiempo.
Hemos salido del túnel hace unas horas y parece que lleváramos el día entero caminando. 

El caos es si cabe mayor que ayer. 
Ni se preocupan ya de apilar los cadáveres que proliferan por doquier. 

Niños, mujeres y ancianos están diseminados por cualquier lugar, iban pertrechados con unas pocas pertenencias como si quisieran huir de sus casas.

Habrán salido de madrugada y no han podido andar más de un kilómetro o dos, derrumbándose exhaustos, tosiendo, vomitando, sangrando por narices y boca hasta que un ataque fulminante de corazón o un derrame cerebral acaba con sus vidas y su sufrimiento.

Acabaré igual que ellos, pienso, no puedo continuar más. 
El aire es irrespirable y venenoso en grado sumo. Cuando joven fui un experto nadador que aguantaba horas en el agua haciendo largos de piscina o de playa una y otra vez. 
Nunca he fumado, tampoco he padecido severos catarros, y quizás este sea el motivo de no haber sucumbido ya.

En cualquier momento estaré en el suelo, pienso, cuando de hecho he caído ya y no me he enterado.

Me ponen una boquilla en la boca y respiro, respiro, es una delicia el aire que llena mis pulmones. Estoy así un segundo aunque no creo tal cosa. Habrá sido un buen rato, me sacuden y abro los ojos. 
En marcha, vamos, tenemos que seguir me dice una voz.

Me incorporo con ayuda y comienzo a caminar de nuevo. A mi lado sigue mi compañero que rápidamente está guardando algo en su macuto. 
Es una mascarilla de oxígeno que me ha dado la vida.

Conviene que nadie la vea, menos aún los soldados, por lo que vamos caminando con sumo cuidado, escondiéndonos en el momento que escuchamos pisadas de grupo.

El silencio es opresivo. En una ciudad como Madrid el hecho de no escuchar nada, solo algún grito o de vez en cuando algún disparo, es aterrador.

Siempre deseé un poco de silencio, pero no esta calma, me eriza los cabellos presenciar que nada se mueve, nada se oye, se habla con voz queda, nuestras pisadas también son silenciosas debido a la capa de polvo, sangre y suciedad que cubre el asfalto o las aceras.

Se escucha el ruido de pesadas botas sobre el asfalto, de inmediato nos escondemos tras varios árboles caídos y observamos atentamente hacia el lugar del que proviene el ruido.

Se oyen juramentos y voces que acompañan a las pisadas.
Un grupo de soldados astrosos con los uniformes sucios y raídos aparece al frente doblando una calle. 

Hablan, tosen, escupen quitándose las mascaras para hacerlo, portan pesados cuchillos en sus manos manchados todos ellos de sangre.
Han dado buena cuenta de los desprevenidos que se han aventurado en las calles tras el toque de queda.

El que parece ser el oficial habla por un teléfono móvil. 

No puede ser, pienso, no funcionan los móviles, pero este es distinto y funciona. 
Es indudable pues se dirige a algún superior recabando ordenes e informado de los incidentes nocturnos.

Cuando acaba suelta una blasfemia, manda formar a la tropa de unos quince y esbozando un grotesco paso marcial enfilan por otra calle a la derecha de donde nos encontramos. 
Se alejan, vuelvo a tragar el asqueroso aire con alivio, seguimos nuestra penosa marcha.

Mi compañero me anima, me sujeta, no desea verme morir pues tendría que seguir su marcha hacia el norte solo, y no desea hacer tal cosa.

Conocidos de una sola noche y amigos ya para siempre unidos por la adversidad y el sufrimiento.

Andamos, tropezamos, sorteamos cuerpos y arboles putrefactos, seguimos caminando sin parar.

¿Cuanto tiempo?

Miles de horas, cientos, no,  solo cinco o seis y nos falta mucho camino aún para llegar a casa.

A TRAVEL THROUGH THE WORDS






After a year of writing here I like to see what have been the changes in this blog, also I like to see what I said a year ago that it was my first experience about writing a blog.
More or less what I wrote a year ago was a lot of nonsense words or ideas, but as always when a person read some notes that were written on the past there is something to learn from them.



I said that it seems I was writing for no body just because there was not any reply or not any signs that any people could read it.
Having in mind I was writing for me only I talk something about my own life, just a diary as I
have done several times before.

Also writing I said our life in a sunday was the same as a monday or other day of the week. Why?
It is easy, I don´t work out from home, so days of the month or the week are the same for me and for my wife. Frecuently I don´t know which day we are living.


Our life is simple, living in a big city like Madrid with so many sites to visit we usually don´t go out to any place, I would like but it is not possible.


My wife Cuca is sick, with a bad sickness "multiple esclerosis" and she likes to be indoors doing her life, Reading, listening to the radio, or the news and even, typing in the keyboard of her pc., so a sunday is a similar day to other day of the week.

The rutine of sundays is that a person comes home to do house chores, help me with the hard work  of a house. This person is like a friend of us now. For years she has been coming on sundays because the rest of week days are working doing other things.

These was before, it was was wrote last year, now just today everything has changed as I could say in other ocasión.
Every day is coming Isabel, the peruvian friend to help me with the chores of the house, little by little things change and this year 2013 it is different from the last of 2012.

-------------

 Being a marry man, working all my life out home, I was very bad acustomed to do nearaly nothing at home.
It was my wife, Cuca, who take care of the children and the house.
Suddenly she was ill, it seems her illness was going to pass soon, but it wasn´t so and at the end
her husband, me,  needs to start a new life as a house keeping.

Yes, this was a new life for me, taking care of my dear wife, looking for the supplies, cooking, going to shop, doing everything a girl or a woman it is supposed to do at home.
Why not men? ....A good question.
So last year and today, of course,  I understand very well what a good woman do at home, it is a difficult work that is not appreciate for us, men, who are absolutely selfish, proud of our Works out home.

Till the moment a person start to do something different, he or she is not aware of the difficult task a house could be, and yes for me it is.

Here at home I have known something about house chores, but outside this my little world I do not know what is happening in the outdoors world.
Yes, the world of outside home, the Spain´s world, The Europa´s world, and so forth....what is happening over there?

So easy to know that I am fed up about the bad news of every day.....

-----------------

Everything if falling down since five or six years ago, and people are not aware that their world is over.

There is not work, not hopes, not any future for the momento, and thousand and thousands of young well prepared tha have to leave their countries looking for a work.
People with fourty or fifty years old that have not money, not work, not home, and so forth.......
so, I said that "Just hte same as every day" no good news at all, not justice, not hopes for our
young and so forth.

Every week now people are in the streets making noise, shouting, against nearly everything
even also they want to change the goverment, the democracy, our system of life, and so
forth.
People are desperate and it is easy to manage persons who has nothing to lost.

Another kind of problems appears from this chaos, yes that is so because some of us are thinking about Spain.
 Spain? does exist this country?...or it is something I was teached and now that idea is not valid?.

Why?. Because every one out  the centre of Iberia wants to be out of the Nation.
Spain? Not, it is better to be Cataluña, Comunidad Vasca, Canarias and so on........
Some months ago I could listened to news that said something about an agreement of Maroc with U.E. about fishing round its coast was finished, and that would be affected to....the fishmen/women of Spain, Andalucia and Canarias.....and I thought......Andalucia is not Spain?
Canarias is not Spain?

What kind of news are these?. I have headache already of listening news like this every day.

Well, I would like that news, subjects, and so forth should be a Little more clear as people
at the end don´t understand anything.

That´s all friends.
This was an example of the subjects I use to write a year ago.

Even now I could write more about the same ítems, but I am fed up. I prefer to look to my
nice cat Gatufo and forget what is happening round me, in my country, in Europe or in
the World,, in fact I could do nothing about it.

It is possible that after a year I have learn anything to talk about?. May be, I like to write that is sure.
Thanks a lot if you have enough patience to read me in this blog even once and have enough patience to read till the end of some of the subjects.



el gatufo.               

MAS QUE VIAJAR SENTIR

 






Lost
Perdido ando hoy sin tu alegría.
Que me anima a seguir este camino.
Emprendido a tu lado ya en la lejanía.
No recuerdo otro despertar sin tu regazo.






Pain  WHAT FOR
 
Un dolor anticipado nos hace ignorar la fragilidad de nuestro entorno.
Incierta pesadumbre de esa pena ilusos ignoramos si vivos enfrentaremos el mañana.
Dolor futuro tangible eres ya sin ser real, ciegos a la realidad de hoy.
Sufrimos ya ese momento que solo con la mente anticipamos.

Ansiedad, aléjate de mi, no eres certeza estate callada.
Solo eres producto de una mente que sufre ya anticipada.





Falling in Love
Sin querer, sin sentirlo casi sin darme cuenta estaba enamorado.
Delgada, bonita, criatura loca viviamos ya en los sesenta.
Ilusos años de una generación que lo confundió todo.
Amor, milagro cotidiano fue que con su ardiente brillo me sustenta.
Tras treinta o mas años sin darme cuenta casi sin sentirlos, hoy sigo enamorado.

(my girl and love)







Depresion

 
No soy el mismo que ayer me sentí.
Cambiado estoy sin saber por que.
Sera el hoy lo que me deja vacío.
Ideas vienen y van sin dejar huella.
Pensamientos incesantes taladran la cabeza.
No hay sosiego ni descanso solo ya.
Vuelve en ti me digo, y así un día mas.
Persigo quimeras que se esfuman.
No hay sentido ni esperanza, solo espera.
Un día, y otro mas aguantando ¿que?.
La muerte sin duda, descanso aparente y facil.
Dormir, no pensar, no sufrir, no esperar.
Dormir al fin, ¿descansar quizás?.


                                                                                               





 
 
In the bed

Pienso cuando a mi lado duermes....
Tu cara pecosa, tu sonrisa que ansío.
El amor en tus ojos, la luz de esa mirada.
El tono en tu voz, si estás triste o alegre.
Cosas que adivino al verte cuando dormida.
A mi lado sigues y el nuevo día amanece.






The Waiting

Alejados de nuestro mundo de ayer
tranquilos vemos pasar los días
juntando tiempo suficiente para pasar
los años.
Apagada la tarde se acorta el plazo
futuro incierto que esperamos sin prisa
pues aunque prisioneros somos
sin angustia estamos
Felices de seguir recorriendo
el camino sin retorno que finaliza
antes o depues, quien lo sabe
la larga o feliz espera siempre cierta.



el gatufo     

HOLY WEEK






RUN AWAY FROM OUR OWN LIFE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.



It seems to me that on "holy week" (easter) we run away of ourselves, and the best form of doing that is going to other place far away from home.

Is it possible that we are so unhappy with our daily life as to do that year after year?.
If it is not so why this escape into highways or to catch the first plane to  takes us nobody knows where?.
To me it seems that the objective is to get out of our daily lives that seems us so bored.

It is not my case, it is just what I see around me and  just I can´t understand such general flight, as fast as posible if we have a bit of money to do that.

It doesn´t matter that the roads are full of cars, hours inside a metalic box with the children shouting and moving fed up with the trip.
It doesn´t matter the place, if there is not any we can invent one that seems attractive to go far from home or from our own life.
It doesn´t matter to have money enough to do such a trip, if there is not money we ask for a credit to escape or at least it was what millions did some years before this crisis.

Each one travel in relation with their position, may be a trip to the little village of our parents. or to the beach despite too much rain,or to much cold it could be there, we don´t care about the weather.
Even more, it doesn´t matter to be hours in a plain to go as far as possible to see a place that means nothing in our life, or to be on a beach far away of our place of living.
From mountains to the beach, from beaches to the mountains, from little cities to big cities, and of course from the big cities to the little one, it is just the same.
All consist in escape from the daily routine that seems to crush our way of living day after day.


Let me say there are more than tweenty years I don´t go any place on easter time, to me is a time to rest and enjoy my not crowded city, Remaining here it is like Paradise, not cars, not so much people to go shopping, to see a museum and so on.
Home it is the best place to be, at least for me, so I have been happy for years having some days to be indoors. Reading, listening to music, going for a walk to the park, walking along the streets more empty, just a pleasure.

For christians it could be also a good time of meditation, alone, or going some church not so crowded, but all depends of every one. I don't need to go to a particular place to meditate, home is good, or a bench in the park ir enough or just a walk.

The mistery to me is always the same, why so many people need to go out from their lives?. Mobbing the roads for hours to go and again once the days pass away mobbing roads to return into the daily routine?. Every year the same, is it we don´t think or we don´t like to stop the wheel of our life?.

Yes, something to think about, if we have time to stop and to think a subject I doubt, sorry but seeing what I see I doubt there is enough time to think if we are going and coming as son as we have some days free.


This year the crisis has been a retreat to hundred thousands who could be have more time to rethink about their lives, what evidently it could be a drama if they have enough time to feel their sorrows, the lack of work, what we are going to do in future?, where is the house close to the beach that we had last year to go on "holly weeks"?. What has happened with our world of yesterday?......
Such a lot of questions to thousands that this year are not on the road.



When I was a child this time of "holy week"  (easter) there were days to meditate, to pray, to think about Christ Jesús, about  Christ's sufferings on the cross that gave His life for us.
Of course, not every body did that, the same now that there are also some people who do just this kind of Christian meditation or prays, but are the less one.
Even the processions are a tourist party, a way of getting lot of money from foreigners or visitors, but not a time to pray or just a time to stop and think about our own life.


I am not a good believer, I could say I am a bad believer more an agnostic than other thing, but I like to meditate about life, God, other different life than this, and so on.
May be that´s the reason I am so astonished about what "holy week" is it for lot of Christians, just a reason to be off from their own life or beliefs if they believe in something.








I wish you a peaceful time of rest and meditation.



el gatufo

viernes, 2 de octubre de 2015

HACIA LA NADA










Salgo de mi ensimismamiento, me están llamado y no será la primera vez.

Cuca, (apodo cariñoso) me dice que van a dar un comunicado oficial en diez minutos, han dicho que se ruega estén muy atentos y se sirvan difundir el comunicado a familiares, amigos, o vecinos, es muy importante que se tenga en cuenta.

Me temo lo peor, y confirmo mis sospechas cuando aparece el presidente flanqueado por los jefes militares y de la policía.
Se dirige a los españoles en una breve locución y nos comunica que de acuerdo con el gabinete de urgencia constituido en Bruselas, para toda la Unión Europea, a partir de mañana queda establecido "el toque de queda" para todos los territorios de la Unión.
Estará vigente desde las doce de la noche hasta las seis de la madrugada, solo las personas que deban trabajar por la noche o cumplir cometidos necesarios tendrán un pase especial para circular y deberán pedirlo hoy en sus empresas u organismos oficiales.
Se hace por el bien de todos, añade, y ante lo extraordinario de la situación, algunos de los derechos constituyentes de los ciudadanos quedan en suspenso hasta que tengamos pleno control de lo que está sucediendo.

El anuncio va crear el pánico que aún no estaba desatado. Mis proyectos de surtirme de lo más necesario para sobrevivir se hacen más difíciles. Hoy mismo tengo que salir si quiero traer algo de lo necesario. 

Salgo ya, le digo a Cuca y Gloria, voy a comprar algunas cosas antes de que se acaben.
Agarro mis tarjetas del banco, un puñado de billetes, mi bandolera, ¿y un arma, pienso?. No de momento, no seas exagerado, además que arma, ¿un cuchillo?
No tienes otra cosa y eres incapaz de usarlo. 
¿Te has vuelto ya loco?. 
Desisto, y salgo rápido sin esperar el ascensor que siempre se demora o me puede dejar atrapado.

La gente está saliendo de sus casas, quieren acaparar lo que sea antes de que se agote, han pensado lo mismo que yo y ya nadie atenderá a razones.

No hay nadie en los cajeros de los bancos de la zona, los cajeros no suministran ningún dinero y algunos están rotos.
Tengo que apañarme con el efectivo si es que encuentro algo que comprar.

Tumultos en todos y cada uno de los supermercados controlados por el ejército. Ya nadie hace fila y todos desean entrar a la vez, agarrando lo que puedan y sin pagar, no hay tiempo ni empleados.
Se escuchan disparos, al aire espero, y en vista del panorama me dirijo a alguna de las farmacias que me pillan cercanas.

Dos, tres, cerradas a cal y canto. 
Por fin veo una que tiene luz y algunas personas esperan fuera.
No hay tumulto como en los supermecados, pregunto y me dicen que si, despachan incluso sin receta.

Cuando estoy frente al mostrador pido todo lo que se me ocurre, el joven que me atiende me dice que solo un envase de cada medicamento por persona. No más, sea usted solidario, me comenta.
O.K., joven, pero es un tratamiento crónico continuado. Necesito al menos dos o tres cajas de "fluoxetina", y también de anti inflamatorios, le digo que mi esposa padece "esclerosis múltiple", está bien señor, pero no abuse.
Me da tres envases de fluoxetina, dos de los anti inflamatorios, alcohol, agua oxigenada, vendas, dos o tres de  analgésicos, y nada más, es suficiente
comenta.
Pago lo que me pide sin pensarlo y salgo rápido no sea que se arrepienta. 
Se ha corrido la voz y empiezan a aglomerarse un gran número de personas en la puerta.
Menos mal, pienso, he llegado a tiempo gracias a Dios.

Ahora a buscar una ferretería o una tienda de todo a un euro. 
Estás últimas están en manos de la comunidad China. Confío en que alguna esté abierta y queden existencias.

Voy peregrinando de una tienda a otra, todas están sin existencias y algunas incluso saqueadas, hago memoria y recuerdo una pequeña situada en un pasadizo muy poco transitado.
Está abierta, e inmediatamente entro y voy rápidamente agarrando todo lo que pillo. 
No quedan demasiados artículos, pero tomo una linterna, varios envases de pilas, alguna herramienta, clavos grandes y un gran martillo, cerillas, velas, envases desechables, bolsas de basura, y en fin un gran stock de todo lo que se me ocurre según lo veo en los estantes medio vacíos ya. 
Compro una gran bolsa de lona e introduzco todo lo comprado en ella.
He comprado también un hacha y un machete, no quedaban nada más que dos, sin pensarlo me apodero de ellos y los llevo colgados de mi cinturón cuando salgo de la tienda. A penas queda nada, varios compradores estaban haciendo lo que yo, llevándose todo prácticamente.

A buen paso y alerta me dirijo otra vez hacia mi casa.



gatufo