Vuelvo a asomarme a este espacio llamado Parque Lineal. Sentada en un viejo banco la abuela observa con la vista perdida and grandson lost his eye lit on the last screen.
To the south midday sun heats the land of ancient countryside on continuously urbanized. 
the north rise the peaks of the future bricked it progresses.
reach the east Mediterranean air mixed with the incinerator. 
West sleeps the sun through the clouds in a riot of color.
spent the winter with its snow white. Gone are the gray day full of rain.
graced the red poppies on the edge of the cement company in florida
and now is the cicada which dominates the continuous sunny days with his singing.
on the mainland that sometimes trembles, I feel supported and forth the fruit of the sun and water. Every moment I enjoy this life, until the last to be finalized. Aware of the ancestors, I charge for this dubious effort to contradictory that old teenager.
An economic tsunami with huge waves threatened to sweep away accumulated profit many resources to "unproductive" entertained with speeches of colors. In the corner bar a group of young immigrants eagerly seek their fortune on the slot machine, while the aroma of fried food national perfumes the footballing spectacle. I'm broken into a thousand pieces after the party of the fat that threatens to lead to clashes forgotten.
Jump in space to immerse myself in this green area called Palomeras Linear Park, where I try to bring my body-contact with others of Mother Nature. It is the Amazon jungle, or even a mountain slope, but is that pulmoncillo plant regulated relieves me hours a week. Sweat on my feet, fresh air in my head, blood stream cheering my guts, temperate neurons. Swifts in the morning planning on standing water.
Walking on the ground pierced by the hermaphrodite worms, sewers and tunnels metreros, think of the welfare cuts to help banks and multinationals. I was surprised by the excited trilling of a small flock of greenfinches who come from Africa, as the ancestors of forgotten Haitians today are no food in the Caribbean land fertile and trembling, and as such, seek living in northern countries, even at the risk of falling into their networks and be enslaved.
But everything is covered by the singing of the vuvucelas, coral mercenary several media bent on blaming workers cumulative capital crisis and the exaltation of the nation soccer. I feel my soul is angry and not just for the kicks that gave the Dutch.
But being "privileged" to work, I go a few days near the Bay of Biscay, to fuck forces for the new season. Oe, oe, oe ,...!!
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