One of the pictures of the Andalusian elections presents us with a middle-aged man. He is in a classroom queuing to vote. In the background there is a blackboard and several children’s drawings of charming monsters, attached to the wall.

An Andalusian exercises his right to vote this Sunday, June 19.

Europe Press

Then there is the democratic thing: the ballots, a ballot box, a president who is always very serious and two members who are pointing. The man, our man, waits for his moment. We don’t know about his political hopes, because the vote is secret, except when it’s an open secret.

But we do have some valuable leads. He wears a T-shirt and shorts, bathing slippers and carries a rolled-up umbrella and a portable cooler.

That is to say, he is a man who lives democracy with the gravity of existence, carrying all its weight. He leaves or comes from the beach, but he does not give up in the effort to glimpse a future and goes to vote, someone may say that with innocence, perhaps. Although the humble vote is never lonely, except for Ciudadanos.

The ballot is like the umbrella and the refrigerator, projections of a thought, established symbols of Hispanic life. If the umbrella protects us from the sun and the fridge keeps the drinks cool, the vote counts and, depending on the result, announces the commitment to renew.

Our man in flip-flops is a contemporary Ulysses returning to Ithaca, even if we don’t recognize him yet. He is the Andalusian who has defeated a common enemy, that corrupt chatter with which they tried to subjugate us again.

It is the Spanish type that sports the soft customs; romantic love and Christian tragedy and salvation. The old freedom.

[Descubre qué han votado tus vecinos: los resultados de las elecciones andaluzas calle a calle]

Yes Pedro Sanchez he hasn’t governed for ten years, it seems like a depressing odyssey. Every trap imaginable has populated his mandate from the start. That he has not expired, although, mortally wounded, he seems more dangerous.

The setback suffered in Andalusia foresees a future without him and his partners, the worst gang of cheeky people, friends of political violence and ideological freaks. The most threatening: still Irene Montero he can continue his lunatic sexual engineering; the independence supporters definitively ban Spanish in Catalonia; Y Monica Oltrabeing named a childhood ambassador.

Even Ada Colau it may occur to him to land in Madrid (he has already fulfilled his mission of destroying Barcelona) or to Yolanda Diaz prologue the complete works of Stalin to later explain the gulag as a very cool thing.

Andalusia has signaled a return to the future, that of the soporific absolute majorities. We lived better in bipartisanship or, at least, Spain and its millions of pockets suffered less anguish. Those were times when retirees made the football line-up, housewives talked about gossip stories, young people understood the texts and people in general were not classified according to their fornicating tastes or their biological appetite.

In short, our man in flip-flops has taught us that the beach is not under the cobblestones, but rather a little by car or on foot, after having voted in a neighborhood school.

[La fotografía del héroe es de Carlos Barba para El Mundo]

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J. A. Allen

Author, blogger, freelance writer. Hater of spiders. Drinker of wine. Mother of hellions.

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