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's late, I have a few hours sleep and I wake up. However, I would love to write at least a list of ideas and thoughts I had this pleasant evening. It turns out that a few weeks ago my brother told me he had bought tickets for the second concert of Paul McCartney and his plan was that he, my mother and me. I nodded, not paying virtually no attention to the issue and so the days passed, with a little excitement by multicomentado event. And so it goes around until I was there, the lights went out and left the former Beatle on stage.

not speak of the concert itself. Say with certainty and others with much greater skill and consistency how they enjoyed the setlist he played Mr. McCartney and how their lives changed by listening to this or that song live, etc. Also, what wey me?, I know that music is not mine, and although I know and I like several songs from the Beatles (who does not?) could never say it's one of my favorite bands. And no, not the wave started at this time.

basically just wanted to mention three things:

1) It was very strange, funny and nice to see my mom so excited to see their idol of youth. She screamed, danced and clapped as good fan and endured without complaining one second by the insistent rain that fell on our heads. The latter is important because my mother is one of those people who believe that by three drops of rain you get sick automatically. In end. From the first song did not stop to say to my brother and me, "I can not believe I'm seeing Paul McCartney." And then the culmination, "Look, I have the goosebumps." Well. Maybe then I'll say it sounds too tragic (well, I think it's the first time I talk about such personal things here), but hey: I'm not sure of returning to share the emotion of these features with my mother. I do not mean just by age, has 62 years, but by the way I have to relate to her and my family. Although I love them very much, I'm usually elusive. And I think that's why it was so amazing to be there with my brother and my mom singing together the most popular songs of Sir Paul and feel a connection that usually never enough. That pleased me a lot.

2) In addition to this, I could not help imagining what it would be a hypothetical son or daughter to invite me to my sixty-odd years to see a concert of some group that I like now. It was funny to think that I have a group that really kill me, and I also thought that for that time and surely would be more Radiohead pa'lla that over here, the only group that, for now, which makes me tend to be my favorite. But yes, kids, if you are reading me, please never take me to a concert to Dolphin the end.

3) A man, like 70, who was two rows ahead of us spent the entire concert in a permanent ecstasy. It knew all the songs and danced until his pacemaker exploded. Well, that did not happen. Bad joke. What is going with his wife, I imagine the same age as him and to one of his sons. When at one point Sir Paul said "this is a song I wrote for Linda" and the entire audience was moved and many cried and the whole show, including "Mr. and his wife could not stop hugging in a highly tender. They smiled and said something that could badly interpreted as "if I had been a musician, I have composed that song. "were released after several minutes. I, after Paul's phrase and the image of these gentlemen, I kept thinking that having a" Linda "in life should be one of the privileges most incredible out there. Someone who not only love, someone who not only play the crush, someone to share not only now, but someone who inspires you, you admire, encourage you to be and do more. I felt a little sad to remember that two of those were to become closer to this idea, that concept, that figure are now completely missing from my life.

I know this another night is over, that evening shut my eyes and talk about different topics and gradually forget this is here. And yet, I must thank Macarni thanks to his concert, and many curious thoughts about past, present and future showed up in a way for other sets. The rain was not important. The songs also. This, whatever remains, goes far beyond drops and musical notes. It's life, claiming her attention.

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deny that I think all the time would be a vile lie.

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Concert van

Arauco is a shame, says Violeta Parra, and while I repeat the title of that old fight song I keep thinking that I might well say that I have also a pity, deep grief and hurt me hurts like a long time nothing was sore, but then think again and you say nothing, it is clear that my pains and shocks are not based on social injustice or economic disappointments, but from the meanest human soul: the rebound. Arauco has a sentence, the phrase gets stuck in my mind like a nut that does not allow the free development of things, Arauco, Arauco is a shame and I also. The songs have never been my forte, unless you are protest, but it was through them that I could keep sane this past month. I've thought and pondered over and over again, spite, my wrath, and by this I feel even against my will has the ability to transform into an unstoppable driving force, a reason not to let up one iota in my projects although it may be the ideal excuse to ignore the world and the only sure bet that we all know better or worse, death. As shown, the distance between a wounded pride, laziness and insanity is not so wide. So I speak. Talk. I arrive home, rang the bell and salts. Wearing new clothes, black boots and a purple blouse do not know but that contrast perfect with your green eyes, those for over a month since I looked. In a few seconds to define the climate of the situation: the conventions of love, those who always took for fact, is now breaking down. Faced with the uncertainty of the greeting, hands not touching, the lips do not kiss, waist not embrace, we do nothing but raise one arm by way of hello. Silence. With a face that wants to be nice and calm voice modulated and you tell me that just by hanging out with friends, you'd love me through and talk quietly all that has happened, but that is impossible now. You make a gesture as encouraging me to say something, but I fail to interpret the truth at all. You look for the first time, directly in the eye and in my mind only echoes the refrain of the song of Parra, the Chilean wrote everything and no one understood. Arauco has a sorrow / That I can not shut up. Sigh and shake my head sharply to the sides, like refusing to believe that an invitation truncated, is all that remains of that old story of the foreigner, the foreign accent, the immeasurable love. Before me is a person who is not her, my memories, and yet you are more than ever. I notice people walking down the street going slower than usual, as if all anticipate that something is happening before their eyes and have a desire sudden stood there. Come on, be your lucky day. The backpack bag that I always carry a rolled sheet, ending a hat tip and a small toy horn. With trembling hands I put on my hat, peeling the leaves (which attempt to look like a medieval edict), and play the musical instrument I bring with me. I see you sideways and I understand that there is curiosity on your face. Maybe it's morbid. How not to be if you have before you the most absurd caricature of a real preacher in a public street. My lips trembled and his voice does not come out. And when the sense of ridicule is about to expire, beginning: "The people and the people who live in them have the innate ability to reconstruct what that has not been successful. Point. Sometimes it is better to demolish from the ground, while in others it is possible to maintain a minimal structure and move forward with new strokes. Point. A year ago, on the day of St. Albert of Louvain, in November 1924, a stranger came to the kingdom, filled with joy and dance festivals of the court. Point. With this many projects were conceived but few completed. Point. Is of the highest importance to recognize, here and now, flying machines that were with him were damaged more. Point. However, the desire to fly remain. Endpoint. "

acknowledge the story.'s Eyes closed a moment to remember that first win meeting. Open. Arauco is a shame / I have one too. The despair came to this land / pride came with it. / No one has been remedied / pudiéndolo remedy.

Questions

a second and then solve. Take your cell phone, send a message to a recipient who does not know, coughed a little and smiled saying, "Come."

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The silence has killed more men than the rifle.

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was not only the background, but neglect the ways in which motivated the angry bastard.