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I will never forget the first time I went shopping by myself, so I must have only 6 or 7 years. Crouched behind the counter, I waited my turn, and without even greeting just said: "A loaf of bread," and let my money. On the other side was Jesus who had known all her life, but never alone, of course. Jesus would laugh until my shyness always, saying: "Richard", then "uuuu" because it seems small when I called I answered with something inaudible that it should sound like. But it was a friendly type, and was part of the neighborhood. Jesus's Bakery, a place long, half baked, and the other half for commercial trials failed all of them (Bakery, pastries, and even shoe). The last time I went there, had something of a parlor. The other half, it always seemed doomed to failure, is closed and bolted.

were the neighborhood stores were the tissue, the substance, the meeting place, where they developed focal points of life. There are no longer the small shops, mysterious way to call one of those shops that were said grocery stores and selling anything, a bit like the Chinese today, but here, ours, Mr. Ramon, who had a gorgeous daughter, the who married the soldier who was sent to Rota. For this, Mr. Ramon. And Jesus, the son of a firefighter. Young was more modern and stationery Gamo, well stocked, store stuff exciting colors, where you had to go buy those things in class that sent me terrified: rotring, compasses, protractors, set squares. I loved the smell of the shop, its light, the treatment was always crowded. Today There is a dentist.

My neighborhood has had reasonable luck. Many smaller shops still survive at the time, resisting the invasions of Asia, the mysterious booths that look older, from another era, even before mine. There are shoes Lopez incredible that continue to exist, such as mattresses León, local disaster and dirty, or Begoña, the dime store clothes that my mother has regular customers. A shop is another that smells like another era, with all these boxes, these windows crammed ... Stores are

neighborhoods. Mine, like all new districts, stillborn, only bloom banks, pharmacies and Chinese, all cold stores and hollow, distant. Mercadona only seems to exert a meeting place, but leaves no room for talk or for knowledge, and looks like a very fertile soil to grow flowers one day they feel the pangs of nostalgia that I feel while I write these lines.

Richi