We read in ARA that the mural in Obradors street dedicated to the Spanish coach Luis de la Fuente in Barcelona's Gothic Quarter "appeared vandalized less than 24 hours after it was painted". The painting, which is the work of artist Alberto León, shows – or rather, used to show – the coach with the World Cup after Spain's victory in the Football World Cup.
Now it will seem like I'm comparing myself to the coach, because a few months ago at the Sant Andreu de la Barca Town Hall they dedicated a "literary bench" to me in front of the library. I was very happy, it seemed incredible to me. There was a fragment of my novel on the backrest, and the drawing... The best part is that "my" bench shared the spotlight with two others: one dedicated to Federico García Lorca and another dedicated to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. As I am the only living author – for now – of the trio, they asked me if I could go and inaugurate it. I said yes, gladly, but I would go when it was "vandalized". My bench will be a real bench, a living bench, a completely literary bench, when on top of some phrase of mine that I might have spent a whole morning thinking about, there is a genuine "Pay for the drug" written in spray paint, and the no less genuine drawing of a titmouse, one of those that has four hairs in the testicular area and a little drop in the preputial area.
I sat there one day, alone, and I thought that, finally, I could say myself that what I write is made with my ass. And I'm sure the national team coach is also very happy with his mural (but not as much as Cristiano Ronaldo with his statue, of course). I mean, with this, that street art is there to be "completed". And the fact that someone completes it reminds us – because it's something that is very often forgotten – that nothing we do is very important.
