Sometimes you open the drawer of your desk looking for a lighter and has a box of twenty years earlier. Just exactly twenty years. These are things that make you think.

I have no nostalgia for that age who remember the dark often with too much tenderness. Just giving you a subtle vertigo suddenly revise the handwriting of one of those complicated friendships that teenagers are confused about something so large as to assume an almost epic.

I always carefully preserved this object and now it has become almost a museum piece before I find him by accident, completely by accident, as something that is believed to have dropped and instead was saved only because we have not hit the trash can .

It is worthwhile to take stock of the twenty years that separate me from the afternoon when it was recorded this tape? Of course not, of course. But that moment so far in one way or another is trapped between the thousand things of this day, a red thread - so we wrote then, in those endless letters so ungrammatical and emotionally - that holds together two distant worlds. Better, a red thread along twenty years, after all, nothing holds together. But while it sits there, reminding you that you have lived so much and still have to live. Just never lose curiosity and ability to be surprised, even by a little thing like that before you can find when you open the drawer of your desk looking for a lighter.