On a television sold to the hubbub, a guy who talks about the stars is a rarity, and a luxury. That was Jesús Quintero. That’s it, and there is the series about his work, which is now running on television, as a reminder. Quintero has been the only one who went on TV to shut up, if appropriate, or even better if not appropriate, thereby placing the eloquence of silence in a medium or a union that exercises shouting boxing. He was a great manirroto of talent, Jesús Quintero, and he filled the night without barely saying anything. It gives it its own style, closed, and that is the first and last medal of those who consecrate their life to the priesthood of the word. He went to TV, as a matter of course, to shut up for a while, and watched like a brotherly wolf, always faithful to the garish rhapsode’s vest, and the unusual unkempt mane of a lyrical madman. It can be seen in Quintero that he wanted to look at the world from an unbuttoned colored vest, and always very complicated with bohemian scarves, which were, in him, always the same scarf, because Quintero, if he gave the change, it was to look even more like him. himself, whom no one resembles. In the series about his figure, the portrait of the communicator who listens is highlighted, but there are many of his mythical interviews on the Internet that are the unusual museum of damaged or famous people who could have been invented by Quintero, but who had ‘deneí’ and all. He created a prestigious stamp of a vagabond with a visa, and the visa came to pass out, in fits and starts, but the vagamundo card did not, which is what matters. I am not referring here to a friend, who might as well be, but to a rogue who deserves every monument. He looked after the head of a tavern’s senior senator and the masthead of a Parisian poet in the shadow of the Giralda. Everything, on board a voice that brought any early morning. He made a lot of money, and lost it. In his last spells of distance, he was a tenant in a nursing home, because there is a time when you don’t need a brother but a doctor, and two nurses. We never saw his cell phone, but we did see an antique ornate cane, which is the walking tool of solitary people. He was a dandy who was best among rogues. He put the same microphone on Felipe González, already thunderous. He gave the same chair to Antonio Gala and a funny rambler. “He accomplished the audacity of staying true to himself, with a theatricality that is sincerity, plus the crazy tinsel vest.” Everyone, with Quintero, said what they had never said, because Quintero invented a climate, and there he stole the interview, which begins or ends by letting you hear, like any good talk, that art in extinction. In the end, she lived in the distance, like the mythological couturiers, or the foam divas. When I was at the top, I would interview you and it was as if you had been given an award. He set up a theater in the center of Seville where the inkwell cabaret and the set of eccentrics crossed paths. It was always night there, like in the lunatic hills inside me. He not only coined a style but a tribe of his own, golden and chipped, ghostly and endearing, a blanket of Martians coming out of prison or going to the April Fair. He reached the kitchen of the prisoners, and the beelzebub of the flamingos. He reached the meekness of impudence, and academic narcissism. He accomplished the audacity of staying true to himself, with a theatricality that is sincerity, plus the crazy tinsel vest. Which, by the way, would still be listed in good condition at an auction of the closet of the best relics of the solitaries.
#Ángel #Antonio #Herrera #Quintero #genius #talent
