The train goes slowly down the steep wall of Montserrat. The top leaves behind us as they move along the smooth stone. Around the sides by tourists, walkers, walking outside the city. Get off at Monestir and take the train to Barcelona. We sit and accelerates the removal. The surrounding landscape is changing rapidly, much more than it did in all previous days. We hear him. The voices began to mingle, accents and languages \u200b\u200boverlap. The film projects a window made of accelerated sequences that run through the mountain landscape of the valley, from the countryside to the suburbs empty sub-branch. Glass me hypnotized, leaves no time for my brain to breathe, the bomb with a series of scenarios and changing color, natural and degraded.
My mind goes back a few nights before, to Artes. At the TV placed above our heads, after days of abstinence and a life-speed man, had swallowed every word, every thought, every breath. We were engulfed by a color LCD monitor placed in the corner of a bar on the outskirts of the industrial area of \u200b\u200ba shed in the middle of nowhere town. As the apple of sin in the Garden of Eden. O Miss Italy in the Bronx.
I look at the window and I can not help but think that the speed, in all its forms, has this result. Depriving the man of the time required to metabolize what happens, decode it and digest it, makes him a pawn in a wind tunnel. A suicide bomber launched his personal history. To follow what it should build.
Before arriving in the city synapses are already returned to simultaneously process more data to process fast stimuli.
remains just a little 'to silence, between the gears of the brain, the legacy of two weeks of wandering.
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