Passes by 75 and is like debuting with picadores in sales. More than a roommate, Juan de Dios is a son who looks at me like a father without blood in between. In this world of rented floors, in this black jungle of Madrid habitable, finding a complementary one, in the way Antonio Machado spoke, is luck. The memory goes to confinement, to the movies in loops of Manolo Escobar and to find, of Chiripa and after many reveals, a deck of cards. Juan de Dios is taken, for his humility, for his mood, a special affection that relieves this incurable sentence of loneliness in Madrid. In that confinement I learned what a prisoner should learn: the human being looking for another is the essential of the species. Related news Lapisabien Opinion If the city of Valle (bis) Jesus Jurado the poets no longer sound with paradise, but already demand a Camastroyo explained the art and essay movies and he, on the other hand, explained to me that of The galanies of Manolo Escobar to Cochita Velasco. Out of ambulances thundered; Inside, at the Bass of Argüelles. Everything looked like a home. With his poker, his film, his live connection with Chapu Apaolaza when he finished his notebook and so. Juan should have a statue for Argüelles, which, by his own will, withdrew the snow from Filomena and carried fresh products and the press to the press to the prevented ladies. Sometimes I see him crying from a pension that barely gives. I hug him and hug me. We talk about its Ray Vallecano, of its stage as an assistant of constructive infrastructure of the army. Of his Granada. There are people who in Madrid who are not the terraces, put a Sabbath of Saturday in a February fringing. Juan de Dios, so helpful, surely the good of Don Camilo José Cela would have written a good profile. Carpetovetonic.
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