MADRID: A STREET
Early
have taken the admirable book Studien uber Hysterie of Sygmund Freud, and anxiety neurosis , his disciple Heckel, and I prepare to reflect on these mo-dernísimas issues. It's hot and the balcony is open. On my desk I have lecterns and small in view two great books: from this amazing thinker austria-co Freud, roots fantasy, another of the enormous Jung, Der Julsall der Psychosse . Who has found larger thoughts about dreams, anxieties and instincts about their sexuality? There is also a book by Dr. Krueger, who the Ibero-American Association has awarded the Cervantes prize, a thousand marks: phonetic study of the history of English dialects in the West, a book by economist Trietch, Germany facts and figures, and a beautiful monograph Fernández Pacheco, Paintings prehistoric dolmens
Albuquerque region.
must read, documented, be useful to our poor country. Suddenly, in the street the cracked voice of an old neighborhood stammer says "I dreamed last night that he and a few wolves ate him ..." The idiot flamenco touch is grim and hateful sung by the broken and faint voice of the elderly. From a window you toss coins and laughing, and grandfather sings again and again that vile nonsense. People tease him and he unleashed them, he sings and responds with profanity insults to complaints it receives. It is necessary to stop the study because the silly ditty clumsy words distract the mind. Just
is gone, there are two fishmongers, one for each mouth of the street. Even the deaf learn that the sardines and tuna come for nothing and kicking today. Their frightful screams, sharp, illogical, enter the gabi-netting, in the ears, brain, and destroy the care, intelligence and zest for life. Then, as always, quarrel. Have vowed to set aside one another, and the problem is forrmidable. Happens everyday and it is expected that with joy, windows and balconies are filled with neighbors, and the scene Unforgettable is worthy of a page Sotileza. Have not yet exhausted his yelling and screaming, when, out of the tie-war, comes a mournful song of anguish is a gulf that sells trinkets do not know what to circumvent the asylum, and intertwined with their offers of trinkets relief requests voice made gallows, with a plaintive chant can santero of block, a postulant of the holy souls in Purgatory. By eating the steps comes a famous old, who invariably makes its appearance with these words: "Thank God I have come where the charity ...»; but those words are lan-lysed the rooftops with shouts impossible, one by one , syllable and syllable, as well as asking to feel hatred to all that rest, everyone who works behind walls unharmed. Step by step, the old walk the streets, and the verses are strung horri-ment one another and in dark rosary. How-do bend the angle of the street, the soul is relieved of an enormous weight. But at that moment there's the voice of the Madrid net grocer, castizo, nice and stupid. "Here's the guy who yells !...», come tomorrow. And this folly rugida eerily still numerous occurrences that are laughed at by the maids and women and had also held out loud, so the grocer is growing and the mess is órdago. __________
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Why close the balcony? You hear the same thing, it seems that you hear more and ask Shout louder when he learned that the balcony is closed. Now is a guitar and a whole manly voice, who sings like a jack or debauch lifara Aragon, I do not know if better or worse than the famous Royo of Rabat do not know if the Jack of the great Moorish Valencia Sidi-Aben-Jot which Breton hear the Fuentes de Ebro Delmas quo I do know is that this Baturro takes two hours to cross the street, and his voice fills the area, overwhelming, stunning, crazy. But at least the beggar has the voice of man.
What voice is that of the guy on the guitar, a guitar that has a bell on the tip? The good man, God confused, or mine or rutting sings, dances and plays, all as you would a madman escaped from an asylum. And if this madness is not enough, there are dozens of guys who mock him and dogged. Still not the puppet in the middle of the street, when in the corner appears another lame beggar who sings dancing bulerías and two children ago regrettable. Group have, and the group bursts into laughter postinero needs child, remember that newspaper nonsense that Madrid's 1820 that was titled as follows: Voices of Dopey and merry aspect of a citizen, having lost the use of the word 1814, wounded by a pestilential air heater, back to retrieve it with the resurrection of the Constitution.
this actor is not over when empty street hawkers infernal only two of those, of those who cast caps or cherries to the Tarascan and selling to me-anything duo that we matapulgas dust, bugs, slides and other parameters ments. You have to hear them cry to believe. One screams horribly, the other hollow voice to make it deeply fearful, and two each by hand, in endless see-Borree, recommend their boxes, which are powder ... "Another inducement-mo-say them, and propaganda, the house Thomas! ... In entering the street seguidita uncle oranges, a young man who throws oranges in the basket-do shoppers scream louder and louder, "two, eight, and two more, and six, and twelve more; this guy has gone mad, neighbors !...» Maybe not in him, but hear is going crazy without remedy. And after this madman, here is the carter who sells vegetables tremendous howl-do ', Aunt Mary !...», phrase repeated thousands of times fabordones absurd, and a Wagnerian mop rather, stravinkyano that announced with a special-class of rare and quirky dissonances, pentatonic scales and even harmonics Schoemberg planes or the devil, and to a woman who gives pots for rags and paid fifteen cents a kilo, and one that makes umbrellas, parasols, fueIles and coffers, and a guy who sells lots of cucumbers and a half kilo of Leganés, and a farmer that sells strings of garlic red Chinchón Pedroñeras or early risers, and a melon Villaconejos, and the Crab "from sea and river alive" ...
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books
Poor, poor study! Unable to work. There is the of 'berry, Morita, blackberries, "with its Arab left and mysterious, distant relic perhaps centuries. And not even her singing melancholy extinct and Eastern reminiscent Hanslik said, that the change of two notes can convert a cadenza full of distinction in a cadence vulgar, here is the blind accordion with his mother, which sweet take seat in comfortable folding chair and start ... without ending ever, ever praise rather well "gypsy" ... I never said unfinished; Guyau, in his book Genesis of the idea of \u200b\u200btime, has not had this English class of beggars who monopolize the time of others and do it with such satisfaction, that looks more like a spirit of sacrifice and pledge of ñolísimo English pride, the personal pride that Martin Hume has check-do in the face not being able to melt in some common cause with the neighbor. And never go away from there mother and daughter if he does not show a group of beggars, male and female, which arouse the neighborhood abracadabra chorus with the verses of "Mi-mosa, mimosa" and "Water has no drinking. .. '. The emergence of these songs and divulgarización street is one of the most curious of Madrid. It is a day when one crosses the street urchin whistling and mumbling the song, sing and whistle soon the other boys, a through-salmódiala diosero badly either, the touch-organs, is repeated one hundred ve-ces the maids, the hum one hears everywhere rondón slips of all codes of the beggars, homeless and miserable, and another day feels that, without wanting or desiring it, lie down or memory up knowing the happy song, hated song. After that torture is terrible all day, every hour, everywhere, that song is us, we truly sorry, gets into all the recesses of consciousness and the brain, often we turn our remembering, we hear a our friends there and who does not know it, exploits or cry ... So to hear on the streets muddy eyes, lips rage, feel like going out to the balcony and living apostrophize to repeat millions of times these unfortunate and tiresome tunes. Lyrics of the books disappear as they sing in the street, those lips are mysterious in tease our brain consciousness memas repeating the verses, music jerk ... From Kapila and Cohem Patandjali to Boustroux and no philosopher has not been occupied it, but oh Fustel de Coulanges, have revealed that ancient city! Starke Oh, we have revealed the primitive family! Oh Spencer, which have revealed the moral of the various peoples! Letourneau Oh, we have revealed ethnic psychology! Gidins Oh, oh Atkinson, Lubbock and what other ancient or modern country and which city has made martyrs of those who work with the exploitation of those songs, those cries, those indescribable shades voceamientos capable of revolutionizing the entire comparative philology of Saic, whole Iberian penetration of Oliveira Martins? ...
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spend quiet, relentless, senseless, three youths chuIones, organ removed or escaped characters in a novel castiza, with the faces of Apaches Picasso or Van Gogh inmates, Solana or fallen. These subjects Shout nothing outrageously popular newspapers, and walk Shout slowly, pausing with mystery and pronouncing words with tremendous force and sugeridora: testatur magna voce per vias. The balconies are full of people. What? And the three sinister howling these phrases: "The Tal, with the extraordinary mystery of the murdered woman in the walls of Brown ... ! 'Must hear them in these sentences the words "extraordinary" and "killed" it is not possible to reach further into the heart of the chill, the unexpected, of the wildly frightening. When I buy a number are nevertheless of voicing, or even look to the buyer, serious, solemn, as if to give the number give something of themselves ... They are what they are, the first Newspaper hawkers in the world, y. .. Olé! ... Poor education, poor books! The woman, who was not ever killed in the suggestive walls of Pardo, this periodical, which is not extraordinary, once again breaks the severity of mental effort, the pen stops on the pages, horrified, the timid ideas hastily hide inextricable fabric of the axons of neurons until the shouting. Spend the shouting y. .. is the sharpener, good and suffered Galician herded their conference yet, with its abrasive paste, the living and the walnut, the flat board to seat the edge, especially with this one acoustic condition: their being heard castraderas in floors high. The god Pan is not known tablet box with twelve holes of varying depth and produces the most penetrating and disturbing sound imaginable. And after the cat suffered castrator, here is the comp00000ner pots, and pans coffers ", the" de Jarama Alive ', that of the' fine mats and litigation ", the uncle of the pans, the uncle of the dishes or batch porcelain pots; to blind howling "No piece better than the view" and describes des-space and realistic "what is seeing and not seeing ..." And as if this were not enough, there is the Man of the towels, "You should see the towel that I will give two real!" And the lame and maimed of the pins, which sells saying: "By God, ladies !»... and that the children chide him thus: "To the beloved, huh?" In the balcony railing of a child cries inconsolably, have locked up, and their crying lasts for hours. The street kids insult to the centenarian living in it, and stones rom-pen the dish of food from home of Martha, with whom he lives all day. The piano bar does not stop, tireless and inexhaustible table paso doble del Gallo plays the waltz from The Merry Widow, giants, Marina ... The solar woman calls loudly for their children for hours. Girls playing circle. Children sing at all beggars sang before. An unbroken horse trader test or horses on the street. And in a guest house is in front, a bellowing tenor tirelessly alleged "died disesperato" Tosca. Eugenio Noel
Spain nerve to nerve (1924) Stock
Austral. Espasa Calpe. Pp 184-189 Madrid 1963
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