The sky is falling in Norteña. It’s raining all over the sky and the green is turning gray outside the window. On the train, an elderly couple looks at their mobile phones with the volume turned up to maximum. The sounds of the gathering blend in with … A laugh escapes from the other’s screen. In the back, two women are talking about the flu. -If it’s related to the bird -or I don’t know what it is. One of them says she heard Herrera say the vaccine was not giving the results she expected. But yes, it had something to do with bird flu. -I heard it from Carlos Herrera, I’m telling you. -And now about swine fever… -The other one slips.
It’s a strange rhythm of not leaving one and entering another. It’s inevitable, says Ignacio. In the foreground, the man continues to receive calls. He’s selling something, but I can’t figure out what it is. There is another person wearing headphones and talking very loudly. It disturbs the entire transportation. He is one of those who have not yet understood that it does not matter what one shouts or whispers, and that the sound of the call is governed by a frequency that does not vary depending on how loud your voice is.
I’ve always liked the Alfea because it’s not as nice as the AVE, but it’s also comfortable. And it smelled like a train heading north, as if they all smelled the same. I think they do. Two passengers keep walking from one place to another carrying a plastic bag which they place in the luggage rack. I think they’re messing around. One looks at me for a few minutes. He looked like he had been addicted to methadone for years; or months; Or a while ago. After a while, they moved and left the plastic bag somewhere else. As if when they got it back later, they would also put their hands on the person next to him. When I passed through Palencia, I couldn’t see them, but they had that look that zombies sometimes have.
We arrived in Torrelavega on time. When the train stops, an old woman stands next to me. He holds one of those little dogs in his arms, with a mean face and a flat nose. Two employees carry three huge bags for the lady. He also managed to get rid of a pet carrier bag that he put in someone’s hand: “I have to hold Daisy in my arms and I can trip.” Two men comment that next year’s Sonorama poster is crazy. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I think every rave has a purpose as long as it doesn’t end in a huge way.
Andrés writes to me from Buenos Aires to remind me that Juan Manuel de Prada is the exclusive writer of his generation, cheerful and courageous, the essential pen of Spain and the language region. I tell him yes. We also talk about submission by Houellebecq: political anticipation, the same conscience…
The year ends again in this December scene. We also ran out a little.