I am going to make you part of an experience that has been a faithful companion on the road: I never had the feeling of living in a place lacking in beauty.
And I have wondered.
What forces were moving inside me so that the reality of this depressed and abandoned environment in those sixties did not raise a wall of rejection towards my neighborhood.
What landscapes opened up on my horizon that sweetened that empty vision of aesthetic interest.
That rhythms appeared like transforming elixirs of that unstressed song that no one wanted to express and in me they constituted a symphony of silences.
What colors dyed my pupil with an infinite range of shades that elevated the meaning of lonely corners to dreamy places.
When I looked back, I realized that I have always lived with love.
Love for my people, my family, my friends, my neighbors, even for those who ignored me in transcendental hours.
For the segregated, for the misunderstood, for the different.
Love for the people and my countrymen.
To the traveler from a strange land.
And to those who do not speak your language.
Love for life, lived passionately.
With dedication without fear of poverty or wealth, of loneliness or company, of rejection or exaltation.
To the encounter or to heartbreak.
Open to the experience of the near and the far.
Love for my land.
Its river and its marshes of infinite sunsets.
Its mountains of hidden and pristine experiences.
Its story of brave and determined men and women who transcended the experience of time and space.
To its mare nostrum and its Atlantean of mythical stories and great epics.
Love for each name given to places that contain a mystery to be discovered.
To the roads that communicate us.
To the stories that make you broad in knowledge.
Now when you hear what I’m going to tell you, we can go hand in hand.
Feel in a heartbeat in unison.
To share being yours, the saying of my words.
Jalid Nieto Voces Solidarias 90th anniversary of the urb.
Bellavista, Cortijo de Cuarto, Bellavista June 18, 2016
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