The Moon

       So absorbed since the film’s start I was that just now a little more I remember apart from my obsession to let myself be invaded by the Moon’s influx, The Moon by Bernardo Bertolucci we were watching. After an exciting scene in which the mother talks to his son coming straight to the point and with much common sense, the son goes away from the house following his mother’s teachings and counsels in search of his lover, a voice reached me. It said to me: You have powers to move the Moon.

        When we came out from the cinema at Fuencarral Street I looked up for the Moon and I didn’t see her. We walked down up to Plaza de Barceló and I looked up for the Moon again. There she was, in all her splendour of light, full Moon. I took advantage to just stand for a moment. I moved my head softly and I could see the Moon moved. I winked at her my eye and smiled to see how she corresponded. A ray of light fell down from her face welcoming me and I realised we understood each other.