yesterday morning, when I was coming down to school, I faced this grey un-light. It was like a smoky blanket between the sky and the mountains. It felt cold and mysterious. I wouldn't say beautiful but appealing, like a whisper calling you to enter and forget. Less than foggy but more than cloudy, that area seemed to be dwelling a different world. Then, it was the lessons and the wonder disappeared.
The flickering flame of a candle, although a humble light, is able to take the eyes far away in time.
It always transports me to an ancestral discovery moment. It trigers the ancestors in me.
There is nothing so powerful and sad, at the same time, as the last bright in a candle. Can you imagine ancient people's desperation when thinking they were about to lose warmth and light?
Today's lights involve a different feeling. You know, there's an iniciative in a Town Hall in Jaén, a town in the south of Spain. The ictizens are voting what to spend the Christmas budget on: paying for the lights or paying unemployed people. I'll tell you the result. Were I given the option, I'd vote for paying the unemployed people. And you?
