What to do

No one knows what to do, right? I am going to tell you what to do. It has to be Saturday afternoon. I mean, it has to be with that raised attitude, that feeling that hyperbolic and wonderful things will happen at night, the heart bubbling with frivolity, and then, once that attitude has been achieved, we must remember that time of my 14 years when we arrived in a motorhome, the dislocated family group that we were, all a little dysfunctional and rare, in northern Argentina (one day I will tell you about the first vacation I had after years without having it, which was not in a motorhome but in a Mercedes Benz 1114 truck in which, between the pilot's seat and the co-pilot, my parents had arranged two wooden chairs for my brother and I to sit, something that would make anyone scream today but at the time it seemed sensational , as sensational as the four bicycles, the four mattresses, the tons of coal and the Jurassic grill that we had behind, in the trailer, and thus we went to know the sea in the seventies, full dictates ra, but since we were pariahs, paranormal campers, we were not received anywherecamping , now they would call it discrimination but then it was just the way things were done, so my father decided to park the truck on the outskirts of a city and in the middle of the night some screams woke us up and my father opened the door and he found four soldiers pointing at his chest because we had parked in front of a regiment and the regiments in those years had tremendous signs that said "Don't stop or the guard will open fire", but although the military treated us badly they let us go and my father drove to the city, parked in front of the municipality as he says "I'm not moving from here", and in the morning we went down to brush our teeth in the middle of the street while people looked at us like we were crazy, we loved doing those things, proud of the power that being eccentric gave us); I told them that on one of those motorhome vacations we arrived in the province of Salta and went to a folk rock, a place where people gather to sing and play, this was called Valderrama, famous, a place where the most important singers in the country and that I was dying to meet because I had heard my mother singing so many times, with a voice that made me think of peaches, a zamba that says "where will we stop if Valderrama goes out", and that Turning off Valderrama seemed like a perfectly possible catastrophe to me, so I was in a hurry to go before it went off, and we arrived well dressed and freshly bathed, and it was raining and there were few people and we sat down. And now you have to focus on that moment. The smell of wood smoke, the rough texture of the tablecloth, the cold hollow of the place. The moment when that family of four asks for wine and empanadas and when the youngest son says "I want roast", and when the older sister says "baby, don't bloat" and kicks him under the table, believing himself very important and adult because she is in that folkloric mecca, although deep down she feels a little puzzled because the place seems icy and maybe, she thinks, that Valderrama goes out is not a catastrophe, but just at that moment a guy comes out with a guitar and he begins to sing "how nice when once / under the midday sun / your mouth opened in a kiss / like a damask full of honey", a beautiful and sad song like a party in which misfortune is perceived, and Now we have to see how, suddenly, a majestic, tense, mathematical harmony overwhelms me, that power that elevation and ecstasy give. And once you get there, that you manage to enter that state, you have to cautiously slide to a scene in the movie Youth , by Paolo Sorrentino, and focus on this dialogue between a climber and a woman in which he says that When he reaches the top of the mountain, he only feels freedom, and in which she says, with disdain, "I only feel fear", to which he responds: "That is also a formidable feeling." And then you have to look, always cautiously, for the moment of the documentary What Happened, Miss Simone? in which they ask Nina Simone what freedom is and in which she replies that freedom is the absence of fear. And then you have to go to the window and look at the day that spreads like a sea, that beautiful and cruel and indifferent world, serene and murderous, still, the sky like an empty palace, and ask yourself what is the correct answer. If freedom is the absence of fear or if fear is a formidable feeling. It is simple. Every day you have to do that.