"I called Magaly Marin" . I have a post-it on my desk for ten days starting well. Magaly, always so kind, I would talk to me about a matter not very urgent. Two days later I ran into the street and crossed three words, because they both wore quickly, and we agreed to see when we could talk more calmly than he had motivated their call. Not possible. That same day Magaly had a seizure that left her in agony, and died three days.
I decided to throw the post-it. I'm not sure why but here I have it, useless at this point.
Today, at the beginning of a film critic, I read in El Pais that "our lives hang by a thread. As much as we cling to control, stability, security they offer us some details of our environment, everything can be sunk by a stroke of fate, by chance, for a few seconds up or down. "
This, I know, is a topic, such generalities inevitably true but trite. However, I often look at the post-it.
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