observe these days the images of the streets of Madrid and Barcelona were filled with crowds dressed in red to celebrate the victory of the world brings to mind the piazzas of Milan, Rome, Naples colored blue four years ago.
The same burst of enthusiasm, the same
irrepressible joy,
the same desire to celebrate,
the same desire to feel and hug me and you but not us.
It does not matter if the reason is absolutely surface
's okay if it's just an irrational moment,
do anything the next day if everything is still equal,
bills, work, shopping, books ...
does not matter because this is a reflection of a dream.
The dream in which the party does not last one night but always
the dream in which embraces emotional but not exploit authentic
the dream in which collapse the barriers between you and me and remains our only joy, the dream
where the enthusiasm is not for a football game but something real, something that touches
life and become a party.
And just thinking about his eyes twinkle,
because we realized the night of the cup, but it remains a
dream for the rest of his life.
and then they emerge within you that first strangled cry, a cry that calls
more
that the dream becomes a promise and the promise becomes a reality.
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