The white

My released:

In the royal funerals of the Process that you are celebrating - and be prudent, that your legs are no longer what they were - stand out above all the gloomy and tortured figure of El Valido. That is, the so-called Quim Torra , president of the Generalitat by delegation of the fugitive Carles Puigdemon t, a man born 56 years ago in a coastal town, nationalist, Catholic and conservative, and clearly touched by the xenophobic emotion. Alternate the observance of his movements in the Government, Parliament and the streets with the reading of El quadern suís , a newspaper written about his season in Switzerland (2006-2007), where he lived as an insurance company executive until he was fired . I would not have started reading this book - soon after reading it - if the author was not who he is. But only because there is much to read. The book is worthily written, worked, describes with application the details of the landscape, also human, and its cultural notes are meditated. Few Spanish politicians could have written it. In the decade between the dismissal and the arrival at the presidency, El Valido read with profit. In particular, to the Catalan journalistic generation of the 30s, several of whose main members, Gaziel , Xammar or Pla , emerge between the seams of their prose. The bottom of the book regurgitates an inexorable, loaded antispañolismo, typical of that generation. An acidity that has no cure and that gives intestinal faces like the author's own. Those who are interested in their xenophobia will do well to follow it in this calm daily rather than in the flying leaves, so widespread, of their digital prose. Not only the trail of his xenophobic staff. Sometimes they ask me about Catalan elites. And his responsibility in all this. An old song Here are the post-war words transcribed by the author of Rafael Patxot , a very important patron of nationalism, intimate of Cambó : "The current Catalonia is not only a busy and exploited people, but a perverted people because they have allowed themselves to be perverted ... they have become simian Madrid people. " Democratic pessimism about Catalonia is understood if it is focused in low light. Especially, because of the submissive and corrupt character that most Spanish rulers have had regarding nationalism. But with the long lights there is no place. Never before has Catalonia been so close to balancing the immorality of many of its inhabitants. That congenital immorality spread freely, confused with the landscape. Now he is drastically isolated and is burning very well these days of garbage.

Politics, directly understood, occupies a small place in the newspaper. The look is always hopeless. For example: "In the courts of the kingdom of Spain the Statute has been approved. Now we know that this will last a generation. That is to say, it will take me retired, walking the grandchildren and explaining to them, in an old language that may no longer know, that your grandparents were not able to go further. May they have better luck. " Or, "Today seventy-six years ago that Francesc Macià proclaimed the Catalan Republic. He never failed to assure that he had faith in the people of Catalonia, but this people did not know how to have faith in himself." In April 2018, a month before he was elected president, the author wrote the epilogue of his diary. It is a pity that it is purely conventional and does not delve into what happened between its pessimism of 2006 and this first sentence of the epilogue: "Ten years later, held a referendum of self-determination on October 1 and proclaimed the Catalan Republic ...". The epilogue, however, has its particular interest at this time, because in it its author points out the task of independence: "A collective and national leap that not only defends but responds in an organized and concentrated manner to make the Republic effective". And it is here precisely, reflected in these days, where the figure of El Valido becomes more interesting and visible its disproportionate moral cowardice. It is likely that he is writing another newspaper right now. And in it this phrase of his last speech before the parliament is underlined: "The day I cannot live in the truth I will tell you." Or this one: "The day that by doing what I want has ceased to be honest, that day I will not be able to continue." The media have widely commented on their participation the other day in the cut of a highway. He did that while the police who theoretically commanded dispersed those who cut highways.

The grotesque side cannot hide the moral scandal in which El Valido lives. He remains the president of a government that controls prisons: and does not open them. And he calls for the freedom of political prisoners, the only one who could give it to him! It is true that the urged probably would not dare to leave, like trembling parakeets. But what fault would he have of cowardice, if it were that of others. As president you should control your Police. But his police ignore him: he complies with the law and disperses and beats. Every slap of the mossos falls on his face. I would like to make myself understood. The supposed political drama doesn't interest me in the least. Politically speaking, the Process is over and I understand the bewildered failure in which independentists must debate what to do now. They have lost even the streets, which are now in the hands of lounge sinaloas, the Pedralbes cartel. But the human drama is interesting. How does that guy come home every night after having beaten his children, and is not a rhetorical figure? How do you organize the pathetic traps and displacements in the time of your speech a ruler who controls the power and his squads and allows the weight of power to fall on them, that is, on him? What degree of alienation and loss of the sense of reality will a man have reached, unable to understand that the end has come, and that victory is not within his reach, but a final, indelible beauty?

These ravages of literature in my own head, and such resistance to consider it a shit without honor.

Keep your path blind.

TO.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

The telescopeMallorca in Hispanidad

The 'X' marks the place Greta and the story

That's me in the corner