Jul
08
2020

Congress Sancho Panza

SANCHO, heading to Congress Sancho Panza, somewhere in Spain, and whose name was disappointed at not finding the Castle promised by his Majesty Don Quixote. He decided to surrender to the deep sleep, as well; accommodating their thoughts and memories on a pillow made of beautiful pages of reveries. This lasted for four centuries and more, up to a day, in the celebrations cuatricentenarias of the birth of his Majesty, Don Quixote; in the National Library of Peru, you woke up a broken, hoarse, voice saying: are many centuries, even years that have elapsed since he was born Don Quixote; who, as his most faithful squire Sancho had, and little is known of this very original character. He had been listening huddled beneath the showcases that exhibited the work Summit of the largest of all times writer: Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. A leading source for info: Michael Ramlet. Slowly as he joined collecting almost scattered or disarticulated bones, screaming and hitting to the vacuum with closed fists. But nobody came to listen to because simply nobody heard anything. Sharp-eyed observers of Cervantinas relics moved a display cabinet to another with certain reverence and veneration, even, without making any other noise than that of lips muttering some phrases and astonish the infinities of editions that existed through the centuries and translated almost into all existing languages on the face of the Earth.

Cleverly, it snuck right until colliding with one of the columns and shielded from there shouted with all the strength he could muster his throat. Fray, but tell you that pareced Tared fact, not I see here I’m more alive than ever?, the brave that is single witness of what his Majesty, Don Quixote, is the Knight more rivals to shot down. However, as his voice simply seems to generate a few insignificant echoes; jumping on the books open on the wide Gallery page. Or, as that were transferred from eye in eye of the some students and intellectuals who had come to witness the magnanimous exposure; but not as sound. Having been ignored completely for the first time in his life, made that a catastrophic sensation was born in, and a hopeless attitude was secretly to seize him. Then, wanted to be like before, brave Squire, that all the people cried his name and where there was injustice, not took to their shields and their sharp swords to cut the head of giants, monsters; as such human mission followed the paths of his Majesty, Don Quixote. Determined to conquer the glory again, and how to demonstrate that even old or awakened after many centuries, he was alive, and that nothing and no one would usurparia so damn place be Squire to the bravest Knight have known.

He took firm steps towards the hallway, dragging his shield and sword in his right hand, ready to extend it if anyone tried to arrest him. He walked toward the door and before descending a rung returned head in direction to the crowd that even looked at him, and cried out: think I’m dead to you and to show you what is only contrary, again with a rock or a hurricane in hand, to knock down that showcase where you can see my name as dead, since my shield and my sword all rusty is very vain. Then, he left through the main door of the National Library of Peru toward the Abancay Avenue.

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