My different ages
I have the faculty, the gift of adopting the attitude of a child two years old and I behave as such at my sixty-two years old. Some people on seeing me proceed this way think I am crazy or completely crazy. These that have seen me jumping and shouting Live! Live! like a child two years old, on seeing me like that and other times as if I was scared or stunned for some reason, and this can last for some seconds, they ask to me what’s the matter and I respond that it happens to me now and then and I tell some of them and to others I don’t. Well, now it is turn to tell once more.
I am very cheerful, I am very happy by what I have done and by what I do; that is, communist soldier since I was born, from which I have been involved in happenings everybody would like to know about. Behave like a child is due to the fact that when I was two years old my father and I killed a man in the kitchen of my grandfathther’s house with two small pistols, one in each hand, my father helping me to shoot. I got a good scare. My mother, who was in the kitchen too, began to scream. Luis! What have you done! Luis! What have you done! I don’t remember anymore until I found myself alone in my room. Later I heard my father calling me to my parents room, where I hadn't entered until then, and saw my parents lying on the bed smiling. My father told me to open a closet, I slided the closet’s door and inside it appeared four army officers in uniform hung up, floating in the air I don’t know how. My father told me to look attentively to the four of them. Suddenly, a horizontal deep wound cut down the officer's uniforms at their hearts level and made blood sprout. Do you know how I have done it?, my father asked me. I don’t, I said. From the bed, said my father. It is for this reason by which I turn out a child of two years old and I jump for joy and say Lives very euphoric. To know my father has powers, the gift of wounding to death officers enemies and to vanish my scare.
As for keeping standing and silent, like dazed, it is because when I was four years old I killed a man at the steering wheel of a truck, the man my mother had said to me and to my friend Alfonso Romero, had had abused her. This happened when I was four years old and it was and still is a kind of daze, since it’s been a long time since I don’t meet Alfonso, although I wait for him, and he’s a witness, and my mother and I have never spoken about it, I spite of the many years past, not even as it were by the way, and when I see myself like in the moment it happened, I do myself see it logical, my state of mind, that lasts for some instants due to having had not shared it with no one, it isn’t like, not in the least of course, as if having being shared always, because I could or we could. Alfonso has told his closest friends he was witness, and my mother will not hide the event to me any longer, so the spell will finally turn into a jovial celebration dissipating all moments lived like waiting for something you know is very good, even sublime but the time never comes. When the time is come, what's for sure, I will jump for joy again. To know my mother has had me spellbound for 58 yers and what I suspect now about her. Her complicity in the Revolutionary Struggle takes in her whole family since times she wasn't born yet.
I do sometimes adopt a personality of a child seven years old, combattant soldier against Franco and his army, forcing them to escape running away when I faced them. They were celebrating a fussilade at Plaza de Cristo Rey, and very near to the Plaza my father had told me they had killed a communist leader who was our father, everyone’s father. My father impulsed me and I began to run against Franco and his from 60 to 80 officers and soldiers very fast, weeping and shouting You have killed my father! Sons of a bitch! Go away! Out from here! They didn’t lose an instant to escape running away. This state during which I behave like being seven years old is provoked by the impulse with which my father pushes me forward. There are some times I do same thing I did, that is, running in the streets euphoric as though I had to face the enemy.
Some times I enjoy it much much when I see myself with Pablo Cabo being both ten years old in the alley of Plaza de Oriente an 18 July 1968 during Franco’s speech shooting against the multitude and killing 10 or 12 fascists, although the newspapers said they were only two the people dead. I have been FRAP’s chief since then. When I imagine what it could have been of different History had Pablo and I been arrested, I can’t but attribute to Pablo and to me the protagonism of a deed of great repercussion. Two boys ten involved is such circumtances we would have reached a larger enthusiasm of world’s population for Revolution. When I remember the action’s instant I laugh heartily and I make the movement as though I was shooting with a gun, sometimes with two. In these moments I jump for joy too, with my arms risen and my fists clenched, looking straight as if walls couldn’t avoid my communication with heavens, and facing the sky I move vault, sun and moon, planets, stars and clouds, always accompanied by my friends comrades.
When it corresponds to behave as if I was eleven and since the day Aldrin, Armstrong and Collins landed with the Apollo on the moon, I see myself overlooking everything, always at a terrain elevation’s feet from where I see my family and friends by the camping tents where we used to spend summers, A Lanzada’s beach, in Pontevedra. It always is as though recalling an old story that took place in Greece in which is told how a boy my age jumped up onto a terrain elevation and summouned all camping’s boys and girls and said to them Greece had to be a paradise like their parents and everyone have dreamed. Later I went to play on the beach with my cousins and camping’s friends. It was an ecstatic moment too when that same day from a road’s curve beside the camping I stood to watch for more than five minutes the beach all along a day of a few people and to think that the world entire expected me to make use of my powers to defeat the enemies of communism.
When at 22 Tejero assaulted Congress gun in hand during the investiture of Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo I was taking a bath, lying in the tube plenty of hot water, and Manuel came into the bathroom and told me Margarita, sister of the dummy king of Spain, was going to come in into his flat. I flew away from Manuel’s flat and left Margarita in the main lounge alone. It wasn't time to kill her. I had killed I don't know how many yet, a lot of Saudi Arabian royal members and their guests on the highway to Marbella, invading the opposite lane and throwing off out their lane the complete cars retinue who were going to spend two months summer in Marbella. A little after the assault to Congress I came back to my parents’ house and waited for Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge to lit the flame to start Revolution. So, the moment I reproduce more now is when Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge join me up in my house and our powers start to work prodigies and Spanish people and many others by extension follow us suit in an international offensive against capitalism. When Alfonso and Jorge came in in the poolroom the day of the firing of six ETA and FRAP members ordered by Franco, Alfonso crossed his lips with his index finger while he was looking at me fixedly and I knew instantly. No doubt, there was no mistery. It was in the evening. In the morning a new terrorist group, GRAPO, had vindicated the assessination of five army officers to take revenge of the firing.
From 18 July 1968 I’ve been FRAP’s chief, since that day Pablo and I killed 10 or 12 fascists and it is for this very reason why, who would not? I exteriorize my revolutionary impetus in two ways: shooting up police cars doing the simulacrum and again jumping up for joy with my arms risen and with fists clenched expecting any minute my encounter with my love Raquel, with Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge. That will be the starting of Revolution to reach the Catharsis of the People Poor, Plenitude and Paradise. Imagine the joy!
