Every six months I re-watch a TV series-formatted work of art called
The Wire
without interruption .
In other words, to enjoy it, to feel it, to dazzle me, to discover that I could spend my life in it, forget all my sorrows and my shortcomings.
There are no dead times, expendable moments, failures, downturns.
Everything works in a state of grace.
The plots, the scripts, the dialogues, the characters, the performers.
His development is passionate and his lucidity frightens.
It shows that the battle against power will always be lost, that the corruption of institutions is finally invulnerable.
But there are also people who do not give up touching the monster's genitals, who believe in the fight for a less unjust and cruel world.
Everything is complex in it.
The villains and those who represent the supposed law.
And it all rings true, covered in many layers, full of nuances, with front and back.
There is harshness, first class realism, mercy, sarcasm, paradoxes, internal and external violence.
It is a feast for the palate, the intelligence and the heart.
It has smell and taste.
And let each viewer choose their favorite season and characters from it.
I have a special love for those that address the education of black children and survival on the docks.
And I fall in love with a tragicomic and moving junkie named Bubbles and Omar, that trafficker robber, homosexual as cool as he is virile, with inalienable codes of loyalty.
The Wire was
invented by David Simon.
I am very sorry that he has returned to Baltimore to return to talking about the police in the gray and irrelevant
The city is ours
.
Do not desecrate the best memories.
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