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Había tanto que non mercaba roupa pra min… Pero o acontecemento meréceo, así que me ergo como ben podo e vou ás carreiras mercar un pantalón, unha camisa e uns eslices antes de que pechen as tendas. A talla dos pantalóns é a 46, á que accedo directamente dende a 42 sen pasar pola 44. Négome. Esfrego os ollos. Dime a rapaciña: tallamos moi baixo. Ou moi alto. Combato a anguria dicíndome que flácido si, pero que aínda ando dentro do muro de contención dos setenta.

Saio das tendas sobre a hora e teño que meter unhas tesoiras no coche e arrancar pra ankara coa roupa vella posta. Cámbiome despois á tarde, nos baños do dublín, mentres agardo por pawley. Deixo os plastiquiños prendeetiquetas amoreados nun recantiño, no lavabo.


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