Oxford Combarro Oxford Oxford My Dear Albert: today I am a citizen of another unknown country, perhaps the country without name, perhaps the Country for Freedom, during these difficult times, with a lot pain and speculation. Times for minorities, the thieves put in a special place, they are hidden behind the black walls of Wall Street. The exact name is the Art of Speculation; is the same thing if you have the permission to be a robber, but with the power of the law on your hands. Everything is strange and the true does not exists, because I prefer a lost dream on the middle of the sea. I have to say to you, this afternoon I was watching the film ” Breakfast at Tiffany” filmed in 1961, with a marvellous music, the one remembered to me the music of Los Lunes al Sol,but it is nice, very beautiful. New York was very nice, all the sequences made was very fantastic. It is normal, because marketing was there, but the Director of the film, created very sweet situations about love. Some takes were made in Central Park, the same place that sometimes was written by Paul Auster, fantastic writer and I like his films too. The same Central Park, where John Lennon stayed,were standing by Yoko ,sometimes, and many other people of this curious City, why not the every days tourist from many parts of this complicate World. The Avenues was so wide and Audrey Hepburn showed her beauty with George Peppard. Perhaps it was a story of love between a writer and a young girl without specific work . She was a great drinker, she liked a lot the parties with the important people of the City, only in an apparent way. Some of then were arrested by the police. She left her family in the country, all the people she was loving were living long distance. The film ended with to main ideas: to depart to Brazil or to stay with the young handsome man. The film ended like a rose at the garden. All these things I am telling you, are the ones touch my heart, my feelings, the little things make me happy, when I were listening the songs of John Denver. When I was listening to him I felt very happy, for instance when the singer was singing, the long way to come home. Immediately my imagination begun to works and I was looking a cowboy walking on the road, but suddenly I was looking the Rocky Mountains, Colorado, or the marvellous song for Annie. Suddenly I needed to close my eyes and I had the necessity to imagine a young girl in front of me, because the love is very deep. Sometimes I was thinking about Jack Kerouac, On the road, this true story about Jack who travelled from the East Coast to the West Cost, Mexico. The sound of the music was very strong, saxo was playing by a strong man in New Orleans. Finally my dear friend,we have to walk a long way to arrive to Happiness, or perhaps to be happy is like a lost dream we never will find it. Miguel


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