He has explained me the way to live in ten days more than in ten years, protected by a blind faith in his hesitant inmortality, all these years always in the scope of a lost bullet that crosses an unknown geography. I now understand that his history was a disrooted, not a freedom one. He  did knew that any life couldn't be supported without references, those origins that bound and somehow explain it. His way to be free was to choose his own ones (to choose his own servility). That's what he's telling me then, why he ran away the very last day he passed his last exam. After all, that day was decisive not just for him; it really influenced a lot and in lots of people; some people's life didn't become the same or it has changed forever. It started the dawn of July the 12th, years ago.  That night he went to bed with our three unapproachable myths, pushing down the gas pedal and passing us by as if we were in a different race: with Berta, unattainaible to despondency, who was his girl from the beginning; with Mónica, fairy-tale naive; with Asun, deep hard Catholic. Berta decided to yield at last - she didn't even know he was leaving. Instead of losing her virginity with any dumb at the rear seat of a car, she preferred the doubtful glory of a fling at Santa Bárbara Sq. This belongs to his legend, I do  know.

(from Últimos disparos en la Perspectiva Nevski / Last shots at the Nevski Perspective)

Alejandro is so stupid, so balancedly stupid that is for sure the ghost didn’t even touch him. He has died as the cows die: for pure inertia – you see, you can’t blame on X nor the ghost, but on Newton and his Natural Science. He has seen that some companions die and although he doesn’t give a shit for anything (Alejandro doesn’t give a shit for nobody), in his particular jándicap he didn’t want to be less than the others (after all, who wants to go out in February, with all those exams? He already fucks enough – and with Delia, who's fit). I already know that he's dead, but I hope he's now convinced of how stupid the Statistics he learnt in his so stupid School of Engineers is.

(from Nueve cadáveres / Nine corpses)

I do remember this scene and although it was the dawn and the only light came from the beacon and the neon, how I could forget that outrageously gesture, the daring fact of that night; that's why I inmediately knew how it was her breast beneath the jeans jacket, just for the tiny movement when she smiled and brought her hand to her face, embarrassed and amusing. Jeanne was like this, hard and naive, able to become ashamed just because someone she doesn't know say to her something corny. She said (when she understood) ‘Oh thank you’ and I didn't wait longer. I turned back to my place. I looked Paul and Paul knew; we left the queue and started to walk. I told him and he laughed, made irony about my soft sentence and my lack of capacity to play the game. I defended myself, I insisted in which that was exactly what I wanted to do, that there wasn't need of anything else. But it was not the truth. I felt like her, even more than I imagined (I even wanted to caress her cheek with my lips). Once in Trafalgar and afterwards in the bus, Paul kept in silence, he did not even say a word, only that sight with no expression, never to me, always to the place were he was leant. When we reach home, he, softly, dressed, fell on the mattress and the dream came to him as everything comes to Paul, without thinking, without suffering. Meanwhile I lighted a cigarrette and smoked, I looked to London's night in run away, far away from me like the lights in the buildings that were around my window. I had a merry-go-round, vertigo feeling, me slipping at a constant rate and the events always either slower or faster, but without any chance for me to adequate my speed, time arrows that were developing without my participation, other ones that were closing for things either I said or did in past times; I was conscious of how pointless was everything, especially of which took me there. I was conscious of the hazzard, I smiled when I thought in the jokes I would have to cope with in the following weeks for my sentence, that was lost with the rest of the city noises in an deaf mutter.

 (from Condiciones de contorno / Contour conditions).