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As túas balas » Blog Archive

Calquera noite

Saio de traballar, sabendo que están TodoNada e Kate agardando por min no bar do portugués (xa pra sempre sen portugués). Dou un rodeo, porque quero peitear ben a crista na casa antes de que me vexan, e descubro que a lúa está completamente chea. Collo medo.

Despois imos ao cabaré, despois rimos, despois falamos, e despois pago voltas e ela paga voltas. Surfeamos bares e vou atopando ao longo da noite pecios de pasado. Sistematicamente. Cuatrero, amigos de Fufli, LC… LC, na terceira vez que me ve, dime que son o home da súa vida e bicámonos. Noto a romaría enteira da virxe da barca abalándome na cabeza. Centos e centos de persoas con cirios e rosquillas decidíndome o futuro co seu peso sobre a pedra.

Ao final, de madrugada, cando diante da tenda de Domingos kate apaga o coche, sinto unha inmensa relaxación na caluga. Cóllolle a dela e bicámonos. A rosquilla connection debeu ser decisiva para os romeiros.

Foi o día máis importante da miña vida. Espero que mañá volva selo.


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