I never thought that a sadness so dark the school grounds without men, the same who lived in the schoolyards without women. Helena knew already, now do not expect Diego to output; Diego doubted if they ever would again. I was already certain that along with Sonia, never could go to the Villa 31. I invented rational windows to continue: mists alternately thicken and dissipate, humanity rises without rest to remote peaks (I repeat, the passage of the hours). Everyone knew the reason for the sadness in the Normal School. Sometimes, my father and my mother were discussing the disappearance of Diego and shouted at each other: for nothing will! (Said my father.) You know why! What bastards! (Replied my mother, crying). That "something" never talked to me. Helena hurt to breath. I asked for answers: Why Diego? "We happen to us as well? Do you happen to others?. Death had taken over the streets. The windows were closed, only a few, who did not care, or were for celebration, they were open. We must do something, and soon (helena said, impatiently.) I looked at her, looking inside me a response to comfort. I did not want us to touch our wounds, only to stop the bleeding. Everything has its time, and everything you want ... it's time (I said). I needed someone to Helena or anyone else, to believe what he was saying. Used to appeal to the hidden-up when I needed to feel safe. Now thirty-four years. I remade my life (I?). Yesterday I stopped at a window of Corrientes and Callao. From within came to me unmistakable strains of a tango, "crazy, crazy, crazy ... ". I read a worn and dirty and paper pasted on the glass by who knows whom: EMERGENCE OF JULY LOPEZ ALIVE!. Helena was right, (I told the indifferent passing me by).
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