I miss October we are living. In my house there are more mosquitoes than in summer and a cricket can be heard at night. Looking at clothing windows for the fall-winter season is creepy. And the November bridge can be a good excuse to put on flip flops again.
Without finishing October, and without having passed the Puente de los Santos, we are already dead in the Champions League. And that the Barça field was full on a Wednesday, knowing before starting that the team was already eliminated. I miss this October. The temperature was the only pleasant thing of the night. Of course, there were times when the embarrassment was reached. Those present came to celebrate a ball recovery by Bellerín or a forced throw-in by Dembélé. There is nothing like changing the president to temper the mood of the stands. Going from one that ate syllables to one that doesn't eat syllables, but seems to eat a lot of other things. And the fans, and a large part of the press, to swallow, that we are not so bad.
At the Camp Nou at minute 17:14 they continue to sing in-inde-independència. More loose. With less emphasis. But he has merit that he continues to sing seeing the panorama. Five years had passed since the declaration of independence, and its architect, Carles Puigdemont, claimed that feat from Belgium, letting us know that five years later, no one had revoked or annulled the DUI. Who does not conform is because he does not want to. It was that same year, the historic 2017, when Barça overcame Paris Saint-Germain 4-0 by scoring a 6-1. Then Juve eliminated us. But, hey, nobody reversed the 6-1.
2017 was a year of mirages. There was an important part of the Catalan population believing that they were about to see the birth of a new country, fairer, more democratic, where even the electricity bill would be cheaper. We still pay part of that bill and part of that bill. Some who appropriated such great words as freedom today show their true face. That autumn of 2017, Francesc de Dalmases published an article in Nació Digital entitled “Puigdemont i Évole, dues setmanes”. There he referred to the manifesto that I had the pleasure of reading together with Mònica Terribas, “Per la llibertat depress i per totes les llibertats”. Dalmases highlighted a passage where there was talk of coercion of journalists by the state apparatus. Then the interview I did with Puigdemont at the gates of October 1 made me ugly. It looks like I didn't ask what he wanted. And he ended his article appealing not to erase in the future the memory of those who, being able to be part of the solution, chose to ignore the problem. To understand each other, a kind of "be careful, we're going to keep your face, traitors."
There was more than one Dalmases at that time. They wanted to silence any voice that spoiled their story. His thought then was hegemonic. Then her world of him shrank. And traitors were appearing closer and closer. Five years later, he has traitors in his own party. Together they call themselves, often an oxymoron in a single word.
Now we have another collective illusion. They tell us that the procés is over. Another mirage. The process will never end. Too many people continue to live from the procés. Note that even Feijóo himself pulls him to be the candidate that Ayuso wants. Because if it is not like that, the candidate will end up being her. And be careful with the feedback: in Catalonia, it is the Dalmases who dream of a Spanish government of PP and Vox. Tonight at three will be two. But some would set their clocks back much further.