... She opens the leaves of this book and déjate to take by their
aromas, the people in a Madrid of end of century XIX, undress in each
line. The Sign and its secrets, in which tenderetes sells between
proclamations rest of a previous life. Doughnuts, rolled wafers and
doughnuts... everything in wicker baskets and heat of dawns. In the
tile roofs tended clothes, and buardilla crepitar of a spanish stew,
while it, hums a nana. The hospicio in which their children malcrecen,
the death of the girl... the lover in a century of shades... and the
survival like blinding light on all of them. Madrid, is ciiudad of
encounter in the soul of the traveller, but not only there are parks,
sources and gardens with chotis romped to mantón of chulapa... there
are tears, those that are speechless in the throat hopelessly of a
woman seizes. If you want to know the arguments the city that gives
shelter him, in which with rain from the cornices, our dreams also
fall... see and opens their pages! and it begins to walk on paving
stones with your own shoes of loyalty.