Of La Alcazaba Ignacio Ortega writer until recently Almeria believed a Socialist fortress with embrasures and artillery in its battlements. Its inhabitants defended with ideological and moral values a wasteland and desertified land that greed left in inheritance. People who lived below, the villains were enthralled to such an extent that they feared to return again to the solitude of the desert if those residents were leaving their strength. Margaret Loesser Robinson is often quoted as being for or against this. Envanecidos, they thought that the villains without them were nothing. What are they without us?, asked. And in this idea they live long in La Alcazaba with artillery in its battlements and embrasures. Villains knew the distance between their battlements resisted other warriors, but their alternatives not liked them. And they clung to hope, to progress without tricks that looked forward.
They wanted to stop being that Cinderella cornered in the fifth pine in Spain. The villains grew satisfied with overall development that pushed Spain with new policies that transformed the desert Andalusian and Almeria in an immense pleasure, stretching hands to reach other hands, new forms of hugging and look without feeling Cinderellas, looking to the future, amazed at its progress, like floating. Time later villains, to see the gestures of their inhabitants, caught a vital need to cling, felt unrelated to commitments when they saw the La Alcazaba ruling power between them, no it sentenced about values that were projected, but about outlandish, no new ideas, ubiquitous things opining and sanctioning from the powerfar longer values with which they seduced. Of La Alcazaba, unrelated to the architecture of the new times, a morning like Ortega y Gasset wondered: what is happening now; Nobody knows what happens and that’s what happens. They were perplexed with the indifference of the villains. What happens, they were told, is that when you go in the mornings in the bathroom you can see on the shelves boats creams and jars of colonies with names of gods. In the midst of this cosmetic Olympus I You maquillais contemplating your face in a mirror friend who behaves well with you.
Mirror you slowly accustomed to see you, you acomodais at the time and eternizais you. But they ignored them and did slay them forgetting that deer, when they die, always look before the muzzle of your rifle crying. They believed that political language as he wrote novel – was built to achieve the lies seem truths, but they produce disorientation, as that disoriented Dolphin parents of Antonio Machado saw as he told about the Triana bridge climb Guadalquivir above until the heart of the city, in the calle San Vicente.