I off to meet Frías. I told me we’d meet in the center of Plaça Catalunya.
The new era starts there.
I’ve got to run soon.
But I just stepped up the game. I came in and ruled again. I impossed the game. Only I want to play diferent dimensions. And I’m ready to go. This is it. The time has come.
I go to the nearest baseball field from my house. Walking. And won’t leave until I hit a homerun.
What’s the probability of that happening?
I want to explore i.
That game of words. That’s my art coincidence. We bumped into each other. And here we are.
PS Now I remember why I wanted to write so bad.
It’s two argentinean sisters from a good Buenos Aires Family of more or less my age: 44. I was taking a panoram picture that was violently interrupted by the unconsciousness of their disruption upon the local artist. A nobody, really. I crazy man from the Gotic quarter. That bearded bum. We love them all. Who get’s them.
Catalans walk away. A bit scared. Ticatalan stayed. We bond. There’s another division no one is contemplating. Till now.
You are up.
So I step up the plate. On the little mountain don Fernando Valenzuela. El Toro de Chohuaquila. A huevo. Su pinche giribilla me la pela. Fernando se perfila. Mide lo que miden los toros. Levanta su rodilla hasta donde llega, levanta los ojitos al cielo, y zumba. Bat. Swing. ALLS.
ALLS es como el picante para un mexicano: va bien con todo.
Yo me presento, humildemente, desde este rincón: Golman Elizondo Pacheco.
Apoyame a ir a Rusia 2018. Con el nuevo país: El TICO COMMONS.
Y vamos, maes, de este palo.