It was from an old barrel organ of Madrid. The old roller whose nails pushed the hammers that marked the rhythm and tune of various chotis and popular songs.
Each nail a note, to the beat of the wrist turn of the “organillero” turn. An unbreakable note, eternal and thousands of times repeated. Well nailed nails, adjusted, tuned. A whole pre-computer program conscientiously, like good stews that need hours of cooking and visual care throughout the process. A masterpiece and a prodigy of what is handmade, of the authentic. Before the empire of the zeros and ones.
Guaynabo, September 2015.
Translated by Google translator.
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