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These are three people, living within us and around us, are everywhere, in the eyes of many people have seen and many times they have seen in our .

moody: This is the character who does not want to love, that has accepted its existence as it is, has waived his ability to transform. May live in luxury and awards, looks like a winner, but basically the ruler is his temper. Frown brow is what gives it the looks surprised. Not interested in anything really, just show that you are angry. It has no art, only the purchase, and not even really like.

The Rotten, is a hero, a long time that its reflection was launched in an alley or forgotten in a square, is that drunk in the middle of the night des sings a love for the moon. He is willing to laugh at each corner, find the wonder of the world in every minute is a silent character, sleepy. The events of his life did not have a clear boundary between dream and reality. It is a sailor lost without direction is not prepared to his ship ran aground at a port, is everything and nothing can be anywhere, so everyone can laugh. Within it also inhabits a child, in this case, not a moody child, but a child who will not stop laughing, not to accept a world that gives him seriously. Grey hates the world that sometimes haunts him is not made for that, so it's a hero rotten, all liquid and destroys them all is corruptible. He is not at the top of the tower, but does not want, that life is denied, he is in the suburbs, is that space decomposition, which begins to transform the world, but only destroyed. It knows that holding, at the end of the day is only the front of himself, and hence arises the art.


The optimist: Sunrise to him remains a moment of joy, smiles, and can look around and you breathe, you feel glad to be alive, to be in their shoes, but do not know well for that. Always has aroused, as if everything was new. For the first time is opening the eyes, and wonder of everyday detail, a plate of food, a bird, a plant.
inside him there is hope, there is a projection and the idea. Something may be different, there's something different in all things, that the world around him is not all there is, in fact, that world is not made of anything, looks like all living Something, suffer, rejoice, cry, cry, being that it is they who chose something. The optimist gets in life, and goes his ways without surrendering, not to get something done, do it for experience. His art is often like to imitate, to walk following a fat man or made business man. Often

optimistic rotten drunk and born with the poetry to life, sometimes accompanies the rotten optimistic a hill to marvel at the shadows that are produced there in the evening. The ill-tempered with rotten delivered to your pain and cry at the end at last, when with luck and goes out with optimistic also learn to laugh.

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Enemies leave its funny when we provoked anger becomes tender. Then all the grievances, the mutual violence, conspiracies, everything must be resolved in an embarrassed hug, a last look full of goodbyes and sirens.

The Follonero interview, talks with Federico Jiménez Losantos on the feast of the twentieth anniversary of the World. His last game abounded in feints and wet bold. Buffaloes were strong. Echoed the prairie. The sons of bitches that I have to put up, smiled Losantos. Do you mean for me? challenged the Follonero. No, how can you ask? Rioja confirmed. Then Frederick was the voice of the COPE franchise. Nothing escaped his intelligent malice. No matter that it was the weather forecast, traffic conditions or a control session the government. Frederick drew his r timid among disqualifications, and other artifacts boric slapstick. It was the immortal Spain waxing, Suresh sheepskins, counting ribs, winning, winning again and little joke.

From his side of the ring, the Sixth rode their commercial batteries. We want a consumer television embrosquile alpha when put next sun, Jaume Roures said, and so tended a bridgehead in the charismatic figure of Jordi Evole, a screenwriter-turned-actor and nurtured in the rich chests Terrat.

broncos were good times. Days of heroes and blood. But time passes and the conflicts that help us live away. Losing an enemy is worse than losing a friend or love. If your friends and your partner will always betray you can get the rough comfort of hate, but if you let an enemy then what? Then nothing, then looking down, then the tips of the shoes, hand in my pocket, I see great, yes, I also ... well I hope there. Goodbye.

Federico Federico is not. They hit a sotanazo and outside is no longer Federico Cope. Nor in the world, although the figure of the outsider grow now that Zapatero wet Pedro J and champagne toast in a hotel bed. Federico alone. Worse than alone. He is accompanied by his memories, the nostalgia of a grandeur that did not happen. I always will want to don Federico, said his family but was a lie. At least I knew.

The reunion between Losantos Follonero and has been the embodiment of sadness. Federico is shorter even than Jordan, and parked side by side to him as a child, he wanted to close the camera brightness of La Sexta. With him went the Minister Sebastian, Zapatero and Pedro J. He was regarded as the brother drunk who vomits at the door after Christmas dinner and disgusts us because we know that sleep alone in a dirty room full of handkerchiefs with stiff semen. All three were laughing. It was the Follonero after hug. Federico was allowed one last cape fainted. Arc across the party opened up the tail of peacock for new friends.

Losantos still smiling. Without understanding exactly who was now. Now that was no longer an enemy. Not even an enemy.