Past future

The baby is sleeping. The house rests with the living room collected. There is no confetti left on the ground, although she still sweeps. Gabriel reads one of the stories in The Tales of Beedle the Bard, by the creator of Harry Potter, the priceless Rowling. The edition is large and solid blue hardcover. The tales are cited in the seventh installment of Potter when the book did not yet exist, an ingenious device. It was said that there was a copy written in the fifteenth century by a certain Beedle, much followed by magicians and such. Curiosity was aroused by the young readers of Harry Potter and the author, the real one, wrote what was not written and today - new year when I write - is paper and literature in the hands of my son ...

The stories of Beedle the bard

"In the year 2019 man has made other men" This is the first sentence of the Blade Runner promotional poster, hanging on the wall of the room that houses shelves and books and two study tables, in one of which I now write and in the other one does - we do - my son's homework. Below the text a photographic composition that represents the beehive buildings from the film, one of them flying cars from which the police officers and the three protagonists patrol: Harrison Ford, gun in hand; the delicate and unstably beautiful Sean Young, an American actress like the beloved Ford who began her career as a ballet dancer; and the Dutch Rutger Hauer, the unforgettable replicant Roy, the leading existentialist of the Nexus 6, the only one who does not look at the camera, with the iconic white dove in hand,

Today is already the second day of 2020 and the future, how strange, has been left behind. My son is reading sitting on the sofa in the living room a book that, in reality, only existed in a world of magicians who do not exist.

And I publish the first column of the newspaper without understanding that there are no cars flying out there or that “Blade Runner”, the Ridley Scott film, which I saw for the first time almost 40 years ago at the Royal cinema, on Armengual street in Malaga in Malaga. la Mota, happened in 2019, even if it was fiction, because I still have the feeling of being in the room in front of the screen, believing that 2019 was very far away in time, so much so that everything that was told in the film could be without place doubtless more than true in that distant future that today is past. I also don't understand why actor Rutger Hauer is already dead. How can it be possible that this is so and he is no longer, only on the screen and on the poster hanging on the wall of the room where I write.