I never cease to be amazed, when I realize how a being apparently as tiny as an ant can rise suddenly to the height of a giant and appear in the world news with a protagonism similar to that of the great catastrophes that continuously plague humanity and often seem inconsequential, except when we play at home. I suppose that the ant in question -previously the simpleton genre, active in the service of the anthill's feverish intendancy- would have gone completely unnoticed, if a visitor, not a guard-another kind of militia, but unlike the ant and that the Bond agent, James Bond, without a license to kill-, attacked, I fear, that from nocturnal though not from treachery, he would have compensated for his boredom with the chance that by doing one of his rounds, our little friend, surely climbing all over from the lower parts of the bust - although it may come to the greyhound, this one understood in its general concept, free of the morbidity of a small part -, would not have been fatally surprised when it was halfway up that Little Everest -comparatively and exaggeratedly speaking-, which is the Tartessian nose of our most universal Lady: that of Elche.
When I think of her -I mean, in the Lady, that there will be time to return to the ant-, I have no qualms about confessing to feel a slight shudder, because for some curious reason that even I do not understand myself, when I see her to her or her close relative, the Lady of Baza-usually happens, even rule without exception, in seasons in which boredom threatens to attract the violence of a hurricane and like Dorothy to the Land of Oz, I go to take refuge in that country beyond the rainbow, which is sometimes the National Archaeological Museum-, I usually end up remembering the mysterious Mata-Hari, which unlike, for example, the unfortunate protagonist of the Dreyfuss affair-Captain Alfred Dreyfuss, unjustly accused of high Betrayal - History has not yet had the courage to rehabilitate it, except to recognize its sex appeal as an erotic value on the rise. I am afraid that my judgment, after all, will not mean anything and any argument you make will always get the same response from the honorable Member: there is no place. There was also no place for an ant to slip into a glass case closed hermetically, armored, with temperature thermostats, recording cameras that collect every last detail of the cotton pants and anti-theft detectors Eric the Belgian, and you see .
I believe that the ant, far from being pardoned, has suffered a shameful execution penalty, dismissed the appeal of forgiveness by a Science that still does not understand how such a disaster could have occurred and shrunk behind the microscope, tries to find out if it is in front of a specimen extraordinary, whose existence had no record to date, but doubting that they can only exist in acts of command such as the one performed by the above, can not put them on the ropes any day. It is not to embitter the party to anyone, but observing the copy of the ant in question, it does not look like the atomic ant of cartoons, nor does it differ in height, color and number of legs of those others that every summer invade the kitchen cupboard in my house.
The question is -how are we, Lord, Lord- that since the news has been made public, inconsequential issues such as unemployment, corruption or security have moved to a second or third level. They say around -I can not confirm, if such speculations have been brought by those swallows who promised Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer not to return their feet to Seville and believe me, I doubt they have kept their word-, that the government of Elche initiating the opportune managements so that his Lady returns to house by Christmas. Greenpeace does not know does not answer and in the ufological circles of the world world, the theorists of the extraterrestrial theory begin to speculate about the possibility of a plot aimed at further submitting to ostracism and perhaps to something else, its Princess of the Stars.
You see, folks, what an ant can do.
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ARS VTINAM MORE S/ANIMVM QVE EFFINGERE/POSSES PULCHRIOR IN TER/RIS NVLLA TABELLA FORET'
'ARTE, OJALÁ PUDIERAS REPRESENTAR EL CARÁCTER Y EL ESPÍRITU. NO HABRÍA SOBRE LA TIERRA IMAGEN MÁS BELLA'
[Martial, latin poet]
ARS OBLIVIONIS