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The cold crawls up my back.
It shouldn’t be this way.
I should be having an espresso at the cafe next door.
A coffee will make me feel better, unlike this...
... I’ve been waiting outside for two hours in the middle of the winter to attend an event...
... for which I have little interest.
The only thing that helps me endure the wait is knowing that I do this for him.
I love my brother, but sometimes he makes everything so difficult.
He doesn’t care that I absent myself from work.
... on top of that, I find out that they have rejected my publication again.
They don’t care about my name.
It doesn’t matter who Felix Recuerda is.
They’ve left me so *** up that I really don’t care he’s gone inside without me.
I understand him.
I’ve been waiting a long time for this.
It shouldn’t depend so much on me.
Still, I should call him.
I don’t know this place or the people that...
***! No dialing tone?
Great.
Now I have to look for him among all these people.
Really. What’s wrong with them?
What makes them dress and act like that?
They are stupid...
... and they make me sick.
I’m sick of watching them waste their time.
It makes me sick to know that they are wasting their money on products for kids and of poor quality.
The very same products that trample my work.
It’s depressing.
I’ve always asked myself what makes a person feign something he is not.
I can’t understand their reasons.
I’m unable to empathize at all with this ***.
Show-offs,...
... clowns,...
... fanatics,...
... freaks.
And not satisfied with it...
... They can’t even answer a simple question.
It’s like talking to a wall.
But they can tell full stories about an idiot
... who transforms into a fox, dimensional rubbish,...
... or about some narcissist character with a hero complex.
The Manga Zone they call it.
For heaven’s sake, this place has “zones”.
The only thing left is to place a big wheel here.
What do they want now?
It’s not the blow that knocks me out me this time...
... but rather the awful smell that gives off his body.
I would rather take another blow than to smell his rubbish.
I don’t know whether it is his heftiness...
... the way he grabs those chopsticks,...
... or the noodles spread all over his beard, but this man commands respect.
He talks about his territory...
... and that he’s not keen on people like me.
I don’t think the “I’ll call the police” show will work with him.
No. It did not work.
Who are you? Why are you helping me?
Is the arm that holds me real or am I still at table...
... stuck to those noodles?
No. The smell is different here. It smells of paper and… sweat.
My ears whistle with the sound and I’m unable think clearly.
I feel as if I’m drowning.
Scumbags
I had forgotten about you.
I would make you swallow your stupid trading cards if it weren’t because I can’t...
... maintain foot on my own.
I need to find him.
You don’t know what is like to have a brother ...
...until he wakes you up first thing in the morning.
I could be at the usual café,...
... enjoying toasts with blueberry jam and an espresso ...
... I would give everything for an espresso.
He whispers to my ear that I have to relax ...
... and that he will return.
I don’t know what he wants from me ...
... but I’m not waiting around to find out.
This doesn’t help me clear things up.
But, what the hell?... Why is he telling me not to turn around?
... Who am I?...
... How does he know that I’m looking for him?
That was close.
I was lucky...
... but it will better to go on unnoticed.
I don’t know what he is smoking.
... but it doesn’t look good... I should hide.
I’ve always been amazed by the way human beings have tried to capture...
...reality
Transforms it...
... and turns it into something beautiful.
The fine stroke of a pencil over the paper ...
... the ink that wraps an image.
The visual narrative that captures the reader in every frame.
One not only creates a story,...
... its characters...
...and dialogues.
One leaves a part of his soul in what one does.
You create life with every line.
A life that goes beyond both the artist and everyone else here.
What we see,...
What we do,...
... is a story that new generations will come to know ...
... and this is the legacy that we will hand them.
But I’m not telling you something you don’t already know, right?
What do you want from me?
What do I want from you, Felix?
Don’t you think you should the asking that question in another way?
My note?... The note!
He gave it to me when I ran into him!
Stand 42...
He should be here.
The bad thing about this world...
... is that we insist on looking for things that do not exist ...
... when what we want is right within reach.
I can’t feel the cold my back anymore.
I don’t need that espresso.
Everything is clear now.