BETWEEN STAIRS

Every sunday, when the sun became patently yellow, I start my drift to looking for a piece of bread for my family. Hang on! I won't to tell you a story about poorness. Unlike, my problem is not pretty the money. I have enough. My problem is a problem of the last day of week. From monday to saturday I buy a deliciousest bread of all over the country, cooked in the little village of Antas de Ulla, more or less at 40 kilometres of Lugo, the town where I waste my life. But that bakery doesn't work on saturday night and, as a consequence, I can't eat her bread. I need to buy a terrible bread that is precocked, unfreezed and ovened by early morning. The alternative is that I cook my own bread. I heard a history about the ancient roman army that invades Galicia and built a military camp in the third century before Christ that became the most important city in the Gallaecia. The investigators said the roman soldiers prepare one mass of weaht flour and water, that they kneading and then spreading on their shields. Before, they put on pieces of meal, cheese and smashing herbs. They lit bonfires and hold over the fire to roast. They called this recipe focaccia. Like the Imperium's fighters, every sunday I think I may to use the instrument that I use to win my salary to get my bread in these days, but I'm journalist, oh surprise!, my newspaper is print still on paper. On sundays I feel confused than Stephen Dedalus of Joyce's novel. Now, before my weekly adventure I'll read Ulysses for calm my heart: "Bread, butter, honey. Haines, come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts. Where's the sugar? O, jay, there's no milk."

The conservative philosopher Michael Oakeshott was a thinker who isn't wide famous, but with a big influence in Margaret Thatcher's think tank of policy. He tells in her essay 'On being conservative' a story of massai tribes of Kenia. When they were moved to the current reserve, they brought up the name of their mountains, their rivers, their plains, their little village and then, they put on these names to the new mountains, the new rivers, the new plains and the new little villages. The biggest worry for they don't was to lost her phisycal country, but to lose their spiritual country. Now the catalonian people are afraid to lost her identity as people because the hug of a big bear, Spain. The spanish gouvernment is pressing to Catalonia with a front coordinated of political decisions, economic threats of ruin, police's repression, prison penalties and accusations about the independentist are breaking the social status quo because their ambition. Spanish authorities don't understand that is not a fight about economy, it's about emotion and about a singular kind of human being. And is impossible change their minds knoking in their heads phisically and metaphorically. The Catalonian ambition of be a nation recognized in international order seems utopical, but the biggest stone in his way is that Spain has the aspiration of the unity in his whole territory and the reason that to base this argument is emotional too, not rational. Dialogue between the both dreamers is the only way, as usual.

The Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Galicia has been dedicated the Day of Galician Arts, that is celebrated today, to an awesome woman: Maruja Mallo. The evident talent of her was overcome for your amazing and free way of life. Un día, one hundred years ago, Maruja Mallo gone into a church riding on a bicycle while a mass. She rolled around into the temple provocating the most scandalous in the parish people and the priest. Mallo was a forgotten artist during a long time, but this situation has changed in the last years. Now is very recognized as a creative. The singer Madonna has two works by her and the director Pedro Almodóvar is fascinated with an oil on canvas that is hang in his bedroom.

I don't understand why we don't use the word policy about the judgement to Cristina de Borbón. Her husband did business because he is married with she (policy) and she is not guilty because she is a daugther of a king (policy)