This Saturday, the editorial of this newspaper She proposes we celebrate Rosalía. I celebrate her with conviction. Convinced means that, first, I had to convince myself, to repel my primal instinct. There are arguments galore. First and foremost, justice: Rosalía's success is a reward for talent, effort, and audacity. And then comes the rest: that a girl from here, musically trained in Barcelona, ​​becomes a global star is good news. That she includes Catalan in her repertoire allows our language, small and mistreated, to take flight on a universal level, even if fleetingly. It doesn't happen to us every day, and of course, it doesn't happen to other minority languages. And even if it did, we'd be foolish to see it any other way: Catalonia has been built on incorporation, not expulsion. Incorporation doesn't mean adulteration, but rather celebrating that what we consider our own blends well with a global product. That there are traces of Rusalia (which is how its name is pronounced) within the product Rosalía.

Arnau Tordera (Tona, 1986) says that becoming a musician wasn't the result of a decision made at a specific moment, but rather a consequence of music gradually taking up more and more time in his life and of a profession that, he asserts, never ends. The leader of the band Obeses, he is also the creator of the opera The Lost Cat and of Sardana SuperstarHe, who has described himself as a "unique artistic piece" irreplaceable by the country, sees in wine a point of connection with pleasure, tradition and the land.

Most people, when they encounter a musician on the subway, tend to walk right past them. Few slow down to listen, and even fewer stop to look at them. However, after what happened this afternoon on the Barcelona subway, more than one person will reconsider the next time a live song accompanies their journey to board the train, lest the singer be none other than Lildami.