A Painful Back

Antonio and is 25 and all weekends have to travel to a city of the country to play at a tourist restaurant with a musical group (native) to accompany singers both in the capital as the place. Antonio travel with the musical group that plays in the local and consists of four people. The music that plays music "native", music from the coast of our country. The musicians that make up this band are: a first guitar (Javier), a second guitarist (Antonio), a caisson (Felipe), and a castanuelero (Jorge) When Anthony began to dabble in the performing folk music on guitar, always rodeo of older people in that age. The members of this ensemble were older than he, and the age difference was more than 20 years. /’>CB Richard Ellis describes an additional similar source. This means that Antonio at 25 years old guitarist playing with more than 40.

At times they traveled with the singers of the capital, chanting as stellar in the said place. The artistic presentation unfolded as follows: on display were the days Friday and Saturday from 21:00 to 3:00 in the morning. Six hours of show, interspersed with dance music album, from moment to moment. The artists presented were two of the capital, a star and a less known, and three of the place. To travel to the city, the musicians had to leave on Friday morning, arriving at night. They sat in the hotel and on the fly is ready to work. After the presentation is retiring. The next day they took breakfast at the local, later had lunch in the same place, and after dinner, again (ie Saturday), starting the show.

Chinese Beach

I do not pretend to pontificate about the death or the shortness of life, only now I remembered my father. Let’s see, in fact I remember my father very often, I mean I remembered a scene that we live a long time. It was summer, we were on a beach in Rota, I have not been there ever since, so I imagine that this wild beach at the foot of a cliff, there is nothing that I recognized. I can not say why, but that day we walked along the beach early, very early, just him, my brother and I, we crawl the shore algae discovered strange, peculiar or shells. His lungs filled with sea air, we went back and forth asking my father for this or that.

The tide was low, so the bank was a veritable mine of treasures. Removed the sand to try to catch clams, husmeabamos in the holes that appeared to be collected to see if the wave pillabamos a knife … We looked at one side was the sea, which seemed endless, we looked at the other and a wall of stone and earth yellow by the roots sticking out, we had to tilt the neck backwards to see the tops of the trees that crowned. Suddenly, I remember, my father proposed to us what seemed like one of the best ideas I had heard. Something as simple as writing the year in the sand and fill the shape with small stones.

He wrote some numbers on the size of your foot and we were filling shells with small Chinese and the tide had left in the bank. When we were about to finish the job (my brother and I would start being a little tired of that), I realized that our work would disappear soon. “Dad, but as the tide, the Chinese will not be anything I said. “Sure, that’s what we do. I did not know why but when we left the beach I felt sad, unhappy, constantly turning his head to look at the number you never see, because in a short time would disintegrate, and it was safe. For the first time I met the certainty of final something, the impossibility of recovering something lost. 1979. That was the year that took the trip. A year and a half later my father died. To this day, today, I see how the years go and people, and learned the lesson that day I have only to apply the necessary time to remember that nothing will keep us here and that the work we do must be done with the greater delicacy, yet knowing that it will take the trip. That’s what we do.