Places are our memories
posted on: Dec 3 2011 8:14 by RDugey. Viewed 29 times."When I'm going to my people and see the hustle and bustle, luxurious cars of the year, its chalets that look like palaces, I take pictures of the old houses, the ranches where they still live the people I met, those already charged canas and years, places loved and remembered where the downpours on zinc did dream in the future who came and went".
Manuel Mora Serrano Leo in that article by my father the same nostalgia that I have heard so many times. The permanent evocations that he and his family and friends keep alive the "Barber" who lived in the age of 30, 40, 50. That that will exist until they are because the towns, cities and neighbourhoods are as its people lived them. Each group and their age and their circumstances given the tone and the nuances of their experiences.
In that article delivered since the soul of a man on the threshold of their 80s lived intensely every minute of the heartbeat of your people.
Which returned and returns u000aeven to suffer what is no longer and it sounds like a hollow modernity, and to seek all of theirs that is, I see the same thing happens to us all them have been coming out of villages, neighbourhoods and cities.
I remember the wonderful movie "Cinema Paradiso" and you can find someone who is absent during too time.
Things that have been structurally transformed, and some old who survive being almost the same.
Only memory that can be counted unless it is worn, anecdotes, describing and recalling characters.
Only the memory remains alive what was and those who were witnesses give life where he became.
Pimentel is to me that people that talk about my parents, my uncles, their friends.
Is the imaginary place that too has to do with what he knew. My visits isolated to visit my grandmother, confined to the affectionate people and nearby I waved to the cousins and friends of u000athem.
Out of my grandmother and her arepitas of corn. The immense courtyard where Miss career with other children; of the sitting listening to my aunt grandmother Luisa and her love story recreated until his last breath; Pimentel for me is everything that is for those who like my father, revive him every moment as a mythical place full of surreal characters, nicknames implausible.
This is the place for me there. You now have, in addition to the loved ones I have left, has nothing to do with sound, huge oh, "Pimentel for men, leather".

Digg it!
del.icio.us
MySpace
Facebook
Fark
Reddit
Newsvine