He had just turned 101 years. Hilario Fernandez had been one of the best criminologists and spies of the Francoist Spain and nazi Germany. Had also worked for the Austrian spy and how not!, for the American C.I.A. so overestimated. Thus considered it that old strong as an oak and ready like a Fox: the C.I.A. was small for him was delayed. The last journalist who had dared to ask for an interview to ask about why you bothered both people to be late to an appointment with him, and if this had to do with some kind of repentance in his life this replied: If someone believes that being late to an appointment is an act of God or an act randomly and that does not carry any responsibility or discipline some is thatYou must devote himself to journalism in the liver.

Does that mean exactly?-replied the reporter. It means that for you the answers are overrated and don’t mean shit. Your questions are that created problems. You don’t want to understand; just want to get lost in your empty nonsense. Please get the hell of my house!. He knew the human mind and its mechanisms and therefore decided to stop and feel human life. They had spent more than 15 minutes from the feeling of waiting, and the knob of the door began to sound strongly.

The grandfather not hurried to open since it was ending COMAR a Tangerine. The boy continued to insist until he understood something: he had arrived late, and therefore had no excuse. Grandpa closed his eyes and allowed sunlight flooded his whole being while it is stretched in the hammock in the back yard of his Italian villa. A young man’s voice interrupted his first NAP of the day. Mr. Fernandez? approached shyly and quietly the young journalist. Yes? – replied the elder opening only one eye and looking directly at the boy in the face.