Letter to Luis

Dear Luis You never know how I fucked up your way. It is no reproach, and it is not your fault. I do not believe in superstitions or strange things but in fate, and yours hit you going to work. Yesterday I woke up in the Grand Canyon with your bad news, and since then I have not stopped thinking about you. I remembered when I came to Marist in 1 BUP and saw a dumb guy with glasses, braces and a back, and thought “this is the weird kid in class. But when we begin to know better, and then I removed the device, not what surprised me more, if you were a good person or good athlete. I remember the Capulet party.It reminded me evenings and nights we share as we filled the glasses of sangria. When “won” the wooden spoon. The ability to form words that you had air that you do not come precisely from the lungs lose capacity when you became a serious man. The bathroom at midnight in Arenas de San Pedro. Luisma theorem: the more luxurious a hotel, the more likely you do not have toilet brush. Villalba, the bowl of Wimbledon and horns. I remember your answer to the ridiculous question of Mark, what would you be able to eat more than anyone. How your lip tremor betrayed you when we played cops and the murderer with the cards and you would be the murderer. I remember that fart in my house with Mark on guitar and you put on the cover saying you were a Snorkel. I loved the PowerPoint presentation you did for your thesis reading, and tell you a secret, many of my presentations are based on yours.Do not forget when you celebrate the doublet of Atleti, and you with us the seventh. And of course, when we celebrate together the European Championships this summer. Recently I hung up a post about our trip to Switzerland to visit Mark. I wish you’d seen. When last year thieves broke into our house Betty told me what he was fuckin ‘that would never feel safe in our own home. Today I passed the same with my friendship. To my friends are the shelter to go for fun, and I believe this tragedy wondering if from now on, when we meet and you’re not able to follow pasandonoslo well.I guess so, because time heals wounds, but likewise do not want the time go slowly erasing my brain your image, your personality, your friendship. It remains to run a San Silvestre with you and invite you to my thesis, but when I do, though you do not see it you’ll be there. I miss a last goodbye. And I hope that I have not been able to say goodbye to you, I do enjoy the reunion with friends that we stay here, enjoy them like last time, and say goodbye properly. It was a pleasure to meet you. Farewell, friend.