Últims dies a l'Eixample

Deulofeu is not a writer like the others. Just as makeup artists beautify the rigor mortis of the deceased, the obituaries he writes for a funeral home are a mummifying balm for the glory of the departed and the memory of friends and relatives. Born and raised in the Eixample, he lives in a building owned by his family since its construction, Casa Deulofeu, which appears on all the postcards. Now, ambition has led the last wave of the bourgeois line to tear down the ancestral home and turn it into apartments and offices to rent at a golden price. He, the only one who has not given in to the temptation of speculation and exodus, resists being kicked out of the house when he no longer has the age or the waistline to change scenery and habits. The Eixample is his particular finisterre and he is not ready to give up and abandon it.