THURSDAY 7:15 a.m. "The city is still sleeping but I'm already on the street. On my way to the City Hall I pass along the urban camp against the War on Irak. It's funny that they're awake too, as we are, the volunteers against the fuel from the Prestige tanker. They are sitting down under a big tent, silent in the dark of the night, staring at the road, looking cold, but there they are, like guards on duty, for someone has to protect this world while the crowds sleep, as the seafarers from the Rias Bajas did, our heroes, who looked after us as the masters were sleeping carelessly into their mansions. It reminds me of that song I wrote seven years ago: "We fall asleep and they take the wheel and God only knows what will happen down the road". I walk on after saying "good morning" to them, quite amazed at the situation. Now I can see the bay and the lights on the other side. It looks calm but who knows what it's turning deep inside, who knows what the tide is bringing today, as the castaway said. Anytime I pass along this place I can't help looking back to see the islands and the horizon on the background, on the open sea, where the Prestige tanker, that sent out an SOS at this time five months ago, is sunken. Now I can see the bus in the distance and some volunteers. When I get there I greet Montse. Into the bus there's Pilar, Estrella, Regina and Gabriele, Chus, Juan and the rest are coming in. I wish that girl is coming today... Today we're going to Muxia, Ground Zero, where everything began. It's surely going to be hard since every day there's more and more fuel. But we don't care, we'll carry on and hopefully more people will join us".