When you start a blog on snuff, do not think about it from his own life. That is visible behind the parapet, chewing the threshold of trust and people with whom you regularly see a estimable.
Ah, but not every year that you are a parent dies. And not every day that marks one year since he closed his eyes.
On 17 June, 2009, was retracing the miles to Alicante that two days before had been to Malaga. Atr & amp; aacute; s had been two weeks of hospital and watch a human being who always seemed to go slowly down the rock like a custard melts out of the refrigerator. In May, his back pain was officially sciatica. In early June, it was a cervical metastasis. Obviously incurable. What nobody expected was that it was also swift.
at 17, 18 and 19 June belong scenes for which he was not ready and yet took a terrifying strength: certain death, stealing body, funeral, casket choice, sign papers, an older man in a box, a crematory, an urn, a poemto Samuel Gawith filled with a Salony in my father emerged from his nap with that smell flooding the hallway. My father never complained about the double standards continued to smoke on the terrace while I smoked comfortably lying on the couch. The closest thing to a rally was when I looked socarróny told me,
- to see when you give me a pipe that I smoke too.
Even that was a good person.
We smoked a few times together, he said. The first and last time I really talked smoking was a Saturday morning my mother worked. I can not rememberor as if it was April or December: memory is always fog. I know it was sunny, the temperature was spring-nothing strange in Alicante, "and went for a walk together. I carried a black billiard Vauen a regulero aromatic snuff, and walked through the town towards the sea, we sat back on a bench in the shade, and smoked and talked. I do not remember what. Just remember that sun, the sky, that light, there, and my father sitting there, rolling a cigarette, while I was smoking the pipe and people looked at us, curious. A tube cigarette maker and a piper, go two foreign elements in a provincial town. I think that's when I cont securcute, a few days before local police officers stopped him because they saw him and suspected liar snuff used marijuana. My father, with all the gray hair gave him more than 60 years, looked at the police, handed him his bag of snuff and said,
- but you think I I have walking age smoking dope?
Then the time was upon us and he left. The distress was quick to Rafa Martin, best artisan pipes Spain. A world-class operator, known all over the world Piper. Chose one of their better
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