Hasta hoy entendí

porqué los Smiths me hacen llorar.

“take me out tonight
because I want to see people and I want to see lights
driving in your car
oh please don’t drop me home because it’s not my home,
it’s their home,
and I’m welcome no more
and if a double-decker bus crashes into us
to die by your side such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
to die by your side the pleasure and the privilege is mine”

Ahí estaba, enfrente de mí, era obvio para todos menos para la Ira.

Qué placer, qué privilegio.