Categories: Opinion

Memories

José María de Areílza and Santiago Carrillo. Author:

TOa tribute to Chesterton, an inexhaustible vein of lapidary sentences, a thought intoxicated with Atlantic sarcasm, so close, by the way, to our old-fashioned retrance: when a man has nothing better to do, he writes his memoirs, a cunning argument that overcomes an impeccable conclusion: Memories always make boredom. Maybe because of this xermolo trampulleira, or subgenre memories It seems to me like a stone in at most two cases because, I thought, no life is so absolutely exciting or suggestive that six hundred pages are completed without the reader’s ardor or enthusiasm dying out. Because between the sincere belief that so war stories Maybe someone will be interested in growing vaidade or treito é, ai, ben curto. Imaxina updick da, as the end of the party, or warmheartedfrom his cozy Saudi haven, decides to entertain us with a recreation of his antics with vedettes, Boreais business women, regattas weekend in Sanxenxo and dead elephants? What fatigue, the Andalusian would say.

Lembro, however, encountered it in certain volumes of memoirs, some of which are of the catacomb genre. Two prelos de Planeta, which, as a publisher, memoirs like Danone aos iogurs, published some memoirs by José María de Areílza and others by Santiago Carrillo, which, in our ideological antipode, brought me back to the golden days of youth that contributed , Except of that, to model the image of homes with human formation, ethical status and civic obligation, to attract two measures into politics, two of our days make a poorer landscape. Perhaps, considering the endless anticipation that inspires me to write some memoir one day, I could be more utilitarian and use my nickname to dedicate black to write a memoir, non sei, to Susanna Griso, or Gran Wyoming or Iván Ferreira, memoirs that would surely be more substantial than mine. And, on the side, put some pasta in the heel.

Namentres, after more than thirty years of editing books at my esteemed university, that sentence, also of British origin, that the past is a foreign country where things are believed in other ways is making more and more sense. Ao mellor, one day when I’m bored I decide to tell what that country is (or was). Oh, I promise nothing.

Source: La Vozde Galicia

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