A Song of #Ceuta My Heart...

Sunbeams Going Into Remember Me By My Window ...

The reflection chiribitas when mackerel marché fine earth. 

Sitting at the port seat, minutes before it left

the boat to the destination of fulfilled dreams. Where and appreciation

the end of my adventure in the capital ... 

I remember every Sunday suffering with the white team, still 

fills my heart, hoping that someday I can take her to a gallon

senior ...

I miss carrying the backpack on my back, or up to Fortaleza

down to the swamp and enjoy Chirimoyas Chestnut, of

Turtle tours Aranguren, the smell of mud, of those

storms in Faro Sirens ..   

Of those nights Bohemia, Marina and Village ... I miss disguise

Pirate and listen as each Chirigota makes a call to his homeland, pulling the blanket

with the grace of those born in the fortified city.

The passion that each live mackerel fervent Easter nothing to envy to the Seville patron,

despite the overcast skies, drops last minute, the Medinaceli makes my tears jump despite being thousands of miles from the smell of divine faith and moral obsession.

I miss the processions continue, I miss seeing the Silence, I miss the meeting in place of Africa.

I'm sorry to miss weddings or baptisms, I miss spending big nights and mornings Cruces De Mayo with the family of Fred, the Tentadero, the Farmhouse, Pepe, the Juano, the Vallejos or any place where I enjoyed a bit of happiness to be with the whole family.

The summer with its rich and fried fish, jumping from the walls, the Marine Park, the campers hearts, nights of San Juan with the first swim of the year in the Ribera Beach while on the steppes are sardines and Wood has cenizado off that smell. Take to collect water in the corners seeking luck magical night, burning your desires in the fire of passion mackerel.

And then the Gitaneo runs through my body with the show that begins to illuminate the city until Christmas.

That is when I return to live in the city, as one, as someone who never leave, that neither thinks about leaving, as if I could freeze time just during those twenty days. Then the story ends and I go back to the capital to follow dreams being fulfilled.

With a very clear idea never forget mackerel roots that run through my skin, my blood pumping rojigualda Ceuta heart ...

                                                                                                       Iván Jiménez

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