The two normal people take olives in a tavern of those of before, lined with varnishing old wood of euphorias and sorrows, walls coated with photo, and even candles spilled on candles that nobody ignites, much less at that time. The … music sounds short (something from Carlos Cano). The first normal person says:
“Well, it’s not me very vermou.”
“No, no, if I either,” the second person replies. If I have asked myself a beer.
“But you’ve told me to ask me for a vermou …
-Yes of course. But you.
“But I don’t like it.”
“Well, I said.”
“If I told you.” And you have told me that here you have to ask for vermou. Much botanist, you told me.
“Because it’s true.” Here is requested.
“Here you will ask for anything, but you have not asked for it.”
“I can’t drink.”
“How can’t you drink?”
“I can, but I don’t get out.”
“How don’t you get out?”
-Not anymore. I got out before. But now I sleep little.
“If babies?”
-No no. In general.
“Then, what does you have to do or don’t drink?”
“It’s that the vermou surpasses me, you know.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Well, you know.” I don’t drink.
“And the beer?”
“I have requested zero zero.”
“Have you asked for zero?”
-Yeah.
“Have you requested zero zero and I here, about that they bring me a vermou, that you already know how my head goes up?”
“You have little?”
“I have perfectly.” But you know how I feel.
“It’s a very good vermou.”
“Have you tried?”
-No. But here is what is drinking. If you do not drink vermou here, it is better to go elsewhere. Here what is requested is vermú.
The waiter, a short and impenetrable man, with baldness of those before, of those of hair around, repeated white shirt, cloth on his shoulder and black pants (the most suffered), brings his vermou to the first normal person. The second normal person says:
-May I try it on?
Although the first normal person does not give credit, the vessel is also approaching. The second normal person smells it.
“Is this a lot of botanist?”
“Are you going to put a fight?”
“I don’t know what a lot of botanist means.”
“Not you or anyone.” But you said it.
“It will be herbs, right?”
“It will be.” Are you going to try it or not?
“It is that she surpasses me,” I know, taking it to my lips. Then I don’t sleep …
The first normal person renounces anything. Recover the glass, look the liquid, drink with caution and return the glass to the bar, thick as a beam.
In a hidden Bafle, the Lupe ends up singing and a voice of water that is tangled in the columns and in a bull head that has lived better days.
“Is this Antonio Molina?” Asks the second normal person.
-I think so.
“How nice Antonio Molina, right?”
-Well yes.
“I like it in the end, when you get tangled.”
“How do you get tangled up?”
-In the end. When it is entangled. When it is entangled at the end. When you start surroundings. When he says a word and stays there, without advancing, turning to the same letter, as well as curves, as if he had all the air in the world, which looks like a tapo hose.
“Oh, already, when she gets tangled.” I know what you tell me.
The two normal people raise their chin to listen better, one with their zero zero, the other with the vermou of herbs. Until Antonio Molina becomes a double knot, it disengages very well and the tavern air is cleaner than before, just when a guitar rag gives way to the next song.
“Well, you say, but if flamenco were always like that, how beautiful, right?”
“But Antonio Molina is flamenco?”
-I think so. But from normal, it seems to me, not to complain.
“What is complaining?”
“Well, I don’t know, who is like a cave, that you go very inside and in the deep there is only fire.” And a man who scares and is very much noticeable that he has the blinds.
“I don’t know what you say.”
“Or who is a lady who has something in the stomach that only takes him singing, who immediately puts a face that she is having a child.”
“And you don’t like that?”
“Get me, I like it;” I like it a lot. But I’m afraid.
“Yes, yes.” It comes from the guts, it seems to me.
“Well, that’s what I notice.”
“That’s why they will sing it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
“That’s why they put a hand like that, as well as in front.”
“I haven’t understood that …”
“No, no, if I either.” I have said that to say.
The first normal person looks at the glass and realizes, with surprise, that it is empty.
“Hey, then the vermou. I think I’m going to ask me another … do I ask you for something?
“Total … I’m going to sleep little the same …
“Do I ask for a beer?”
-Okay.
“Zero?”
The normal person thinks about it.
“I better ask me …” He thinks it a little more. You better ask me, if you don’t care much, a vermou.
#Water #voice
