Every night, for five years, at home we have stood in front of the TV to watch live the nights of fire and fury in the streets of Barcelona. It is not a series. It's the news News that return hypnotic images of barricades and cars burning in the streets of an opulent city. A city of the most tourist in the world. They are scenes of magnetic attraction that you never know how they will end. If with the hooded detained or with the injured police. That's why you have to stay tuned for the screen. Television journalists - who play the guy - wear helmets to protect themselves from flying stones. Among the flames of the barricades you can hear shots, screams, swear words, you can smell the smoke through the screen.

The barbarians wear hoods, sweatshirts, baseball bats, bottles, backpacks from which they take liquids to fan the flames of the containers to which they set fire. The police charge at times, and at times they stare at the fire and wait for the fire truck. The barbarians move forward and backward to play the mouse and the cat with the mossos and the national police. You can't take off the TV screen just in case. Dinner in the lounge, while the young barbarians take selfies with their iPhone, or that older man collects the boards and traffic signs that have been torn off the asphalt to place them delicately on a nearby wall. Endearing.

The face of the barbarians - radicals call them the commentators - is playful, festive, jaranero, bustling. As in the bottles. The second night - I think it could be the third night - two boys boasted of their cubata and their much art when posing. Others greeted the camera showing the middle finger, or making aesthetically less delicate gestures. They run, jump, insult the police, throw objects, launch a firework rocket at a helicopter. What a fun game, you'll see when I tell my colleagues.

When it seems that they calm down, you will drink water to the kitchen, and on the way back they are already dumping the containers that were still standing. Next to the flames, an influencer hangs her photo on Instagram - so pretty - to have more followers. Savagery and fire are not at odds - on the contrary - with the narcissistic civilization that has invaded private and public space. Under the cobblestones there is no longer the beach - as in the French May - but the kingdom of likes .

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