Todos habían dejado de bailar

A brutal murder. Francesc Reinosa has been massacred, in his store on Aragón Street, by an American deserter who was up to his eyeballs as a minnow called Jimmy. Behind this scavenger are Pilar, who just wants to live her life without anyone's permission, and Stephen, a consummate expert in forward escapes. And the Hall brothers, also Yankees, with good ideas for Jazz and other, terrible ones, to become great traffickers of jaco. And Nancy, who is very hooked on the needle. And Joan, who came to have fun and stayed here for love. And Cambados and his gang, who think they have a good plan to raise a good fortune. And Potato, the last son of a bitch that no one would want to get into debt with. And Titi, his fierce lieutenant. And, in the background, Plaza Real, and Escudellers street, and Parliament street and Pueblo Seco, in whose dens and basements crackle notes of Jazz, Blues, original Rock and roll, putting rhythm and beat to this Barcelona of 1962. Jamboree, Jack's, Jazz Colón, Kit Kat, El Tobogán, Zodiac. The sounds of a battered city whose street meandering smells of sanfaina and danger, and through whose taverns, timbas and corners come hustlers, gang members, pintxos, sailors, rumberos, whores, posh people and policemen with a very bad host. All living day to day. Everyone living in this place bordering on their own time. All dancing to life, until it tells you enough.