Espinosa Pedro Estevez was a middle-aged man, 53 years (which would suggest that live to be 106), some grown in the musical arts, but with a great voice for singing. The time had wanted to marry a woman eight years younger than him, he still had a certain charm in the gray, and the disease had Indeed, that turned into an anti-widower, come on, he was dead.
Ata
For some reason ran the cemetery searching for the tomb of Pedro Estevez, may be the reason for the search of the group "The Greens", or maybe just looking for something to move and feel alive, which in its current location , it was still funny. I always imagined that a cemetery had graves with tombstones of those planted in the ground, with some dried flowers, and earth moved for years, but life plays tricks on us, and we all end up in a crappy wooden box of 600 € with a religious symbol with which most people do not identify themselves within niches huge greased and covered with a cement slab, and if you're lucky on the fifth floor, to say that even in death, no one is above you. These reflections Ata not worth anything when searching for graves, but felt that if someone were writing a blog would be minimally curious.
came to a nameless tombstone and stood there as if he knew was that the one he wanted, he was convinced. But for sure took a pen and wrote: "Pedro Estevez Espinosa. Singer of" Lettuce. " Sometimes I had good ideas, and although this was not such, there is no denying that it was quite effective for their purposes.
- Good morning Mr. Estevez. - Greeted Ata.
- ...
- I know I can not answer, so I'll throw here as long as you want and say whatever he wants, while I imagine the answers you want What do you think? - A noun that should be arrogant young man seemed to surround the university.
Interestingly, Ata was doing what with the dead was something that people do with the living.
- ...
- I really do not know what to say, I do not know what he meant. Can you imagine? Why am I here? Eh ... well, what I can tutearle?
- ...
- Okay. You do not know who I am, but well, I imagine. Do you think I'm looking for myself? What this search without feet or lower legs or head or torso is only one way to go into my soul? How to find my purpose? Is what's inside me?
- ...
- Ooooooooh! I see. Great. I'm much calmer. - Ata sigh of relief.
was Ata was not as crazy or silly or lived was as unrealistic as it might seem. Did not think I would have responded, in fact, not even he imagined the answer, just imagine that you had replied, and he knew what it was, and knew it was good and that he had resolved all doubts, but in reality, did not not know anything and did not know what to answer. Even so, well, had an answer, which was what I needed at that time and although he did not know what was (or other), still like itself.
- Ah! One last thing, you know where you live Arnau Casas Japan.
- ...
- Vale. Thank you very much for your time sir.
Ata left the cemetery looking at graves ... white, yellow and black, was disappointed sitiéndose such graves. He never imagined that the coffins sealed with cement solve the zombie crisis of 2038. What does that really did not imagine is that the tomb in which he had been talking about it in which he had just buried. One hell of an irony of fate. Arnau
home if he was alive, fortunately or unfortunately, even though he lived in a residential area a few kilometers from the city as Ata had heard in the cemetery. This time he chose the bike as transportation, cool wind would do him better than the wind fresh conditioned bus, and drops of sweat and exhaustion would serve as an excuse to ask for a glass of water and more easily enter the house ( a great strategy if it had been anticipated, but also a great strategy to come out of jam). The feeling of freedom on the bike was a kind of analogy of life, thought Ata. "There are moments where everything is downhill and cool, like the wind. But other is uphill and you have to pedal hard or steal a bike." Stealing a bike was not within its real possibilities, understood as "stealing a bike," the whore someone to get what you want, so that a motorcycle does not, but to see who tells him not to enter a strange house steal petrol to sell it to others when there is no gasoline in town.
The residential neighborhood was no simple mapping, a maze of terraced houses and people walking poodles appeared before him. Poodles were ugly. But maze molaban. Asking people is not within the logical thing when you live an adventure ... yes indeed it is, but find out where was the dragon (that does not exist) was more funny and stupid. Admittedly, our protagonist is an idiot.
After a sub-minor adventures, quite negligible but damn important to the story, Ata came to the door with a garden making their way to their sides. A black wrought iron gate, a door handle in white with a golden color and white bell announcing what we already knew: it's time to rest.
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