Picasso’s Guernica

            After having been living at Manuel’s and having seen the microfilm of revolutionary actions, I came back home when I once knew it was not in the plans of the Communist Party that I was president when living at 9 Jorge Juan Street. I had of course powerless the dummy king and sneaker president Adolfo Suárez. More yet, I was witness of the images of Guernica’s bombardment filmed by Legión Cóndor, composed of German and Italian fighter planes that with Franco’s complicity carried out a chemical arms test over Guernica. As we already know, when during so many years it was speaking about Guernica’s bombardment there were even politicians and journalists who ventured whimsically a number of people death, downgrading intentionally the horror it caused, which enraged us all then and enraged us all for the centuries coming and it impulsed Pablo Picasso to paint his Guernica.

            The boys my neighbours painted the Guernica on a wall of the Red Place, that is how we call the place next to ours, divided both by the neighbours association. The wall was facing Nieves’s pharmacy and the Guernica had been there on the wall for many years. The wall was a side of a building that had been a market place long ago and you may well imagine how politicians could deplore we were hungry for revenge since Civil War and cruel pure shit Franco’s dictatorship. By the time the boys had painted the Guernica I used to go to the Red Place to make big sounds shouting at the top of my might Po, most times repeatedly, Po, Po, Po, Po… and shooting up at the ground and at the sky with a fake gun. Also I used to spend a lot of time in front of Bar La Estrella doing levitations and doing as if I was shooting up against police cars while waiting for my friends Alfonso Romero, Pablo Cabo and Jorge Olivas, to whom I had seen on the microfilm.

            Some day I got to know the mayor wanted to pull down the old building and leaving us without Picasso’s Guernica. He surely thought € 5 million was worth and by the way suppress at least the horror in the painting causing a fixed idea among neighbours of revenge to dry the tears caused by the cruelty of Franco’s Army. He (mayor) and his probably thought too that with this, a simply open ground for us instead, is not so inviting to be courageous. Of course they hid themselves under a mask of correct politicians, many already in the diplomatic career of bombastic gestures like grands seigneurs ou grandes dames, des grands coups, des grandes morceaux, but we are waiting the day, already very close in time, in which everyone will see Guernica’s bombardment entire, so fascists and their accomplices will have no other than suicide or finished by being killed lynched by a mass, because the vision of the bombardment will encourage us to kill all the fascists and put an end at last to all vestiges of Franco and the Bourbons.

            So imagine the situation: Popular Front Army soldiers seeking for the best time to put on the Guernica’s bombardment on TV to encourage the people to shoot up them fascists, Franco’s and Bourbon’s people and their accomplices in panic breathless and… my big friends old comrades Alfonso Romero, Pablo Cabo and Jorge Olivas come to meet me and Revolution starts. What after all did they get pulling down our Picasso’s Guernica?