This week marks one year since the last time I went, that we went, to football.
Sevilla in the Metropolitano, a frustrating 2-2, a splendid afternoon, expectant beers in the face of that virus that appeared and we still considered an anecdote that, at best, would close the bars for a couple of weeks. Ignorance.
The happiness.
One year now and here we are.
We won't be better, but we will.
There is little left.
But how will we get out?
How many bruises, how many traumas, how much loss?
How much do you want, how much
Become Premium and
enjoy 3 months for € 1
Take advantage of this limited time offer and access all web content
I love you
Are you already Premium?
Log in
Cancel whenever you want
Check the terms and conditions of the service
According to the criteria of The Trust Project
Know more