The cinema was run by a kind old gentleman who let children in for free when the owners weren’t looking. He was also notorious for putting on open screenings of banned films, some of them exceptionally pornographic. After hours, of course. Nobody ever reported him to the authorities because, for starters, half the town had at some point or other snuck in to one of his illicit showings and, more to the point, they loved him. The rebellious old codger with a cigar jammed in his beard (so thick that you could never tell if the Havana was actually in his mouth or merely adjacent to it) and an endless supply of wry witticisms and radical quotes from philosophers and revolutionaries long banned and even longer dead.
Sometimes I wonder though… Maybe the authorities were aware of his activities. Maybe they cynically reasoned that he gave the townspeople an outlet, a safe arena to let off steam and remain, on the whole, quiescent. You wouldn’t put it past the calculating bastards, and hirsute old Javier was hardly reticent when it came to his nocturnal endeavours. Poor bugger.
It was terrible what they did to him.
What was even more terrible though, was the ease with which we forgot him.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters… ★