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As túas balas » Blog Archive

folclore

Ás noites desce a maxia sobre a terra. Á saída do teatro, vou á miña taberna, á de toda a vida, e quedo ceando cos camareiros. Fóra chove anduanadamente. Ceamos lacón con grelos e bebemos bastante: eles comezan a debater sobre a pruína, o beaujolais, e os procesos de fermentación en botella, e míroos completamente ignorante e divertido. A min gústame un deles, dende hai moito, e el sábeo na prebélica dunha guerra que nunca terá lugar.

Despois vou con Fufli á procura dun paleofalante delicioso, a quen xa lle mandara recado: pero onte descubrimos que tiña mociño. Ao final todo rematou á madrugada coa intervención da policía nun local de baile tradicional, onde o meu paleofalante celebraba unha festa de cumpreanos: unha pelexa entre bandas rivais deixara vidros rotos e vellas fotos de gaiteiros tiradas polo chan. Acompañoume ata preto da casa outro rapaz, pero a miña soidade era aínda máis deliciosa.


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