There's over, perhaps, our nineteenth century. And our century, if you ask me. Here we go and what we are. That afternoon. Thirty years ago. The evening marked the beginning of the end and Carrillo Suárez .
My memories are hazy. I was, pardon the nostalgia, six, almost seven. I was with my mother, yes I remember, at a haberdashery that was on the street corner, almost already Puenteareas. You could hear the radio. And I do not understand anything. The military had said the clerk. Everything is confusing. My father had advanced occur days before the resignation of Suárez (we heard a passenger in the taxi) and the phrase " do not think the military may take time to get up " was a classic meal. I did not know what it was that of a coup, while we returned home was imagining that someone gave him a blow to Spain, a physical blow, say, a well given host. I can not remember more. I think that the next day did not go to college, but I can not remember.
This is my (limited) memory of 23 efe. And you, idle reader, where was that day?
0 comments:
Post a Comment