Barras de luna

On the stage clouded by smoke and the memories of an old jazz bar, a kaleidoscope of initiatory or broken human beings passes, wrapped in the nostalgic melody of the piano, the saxophone and the whispers -sometimes screams- of the ghosts of the past, the sliding of the cards and the silent fall of the snow. Charlie the seller of nightmares, a lady of equivocal age who hides her torn stockings under a mattress of loneliness, Ramón the waiter, Greta the Black... Aces up her sleeve, ladies of hearts, Straigh Flush to escape from a world wrapped in fog, sugar frost on hair and soul. Broken hearts like mirrors that reflect diamonds in the corners and that over time the feet of life crumble like sand lost between the cracks in the floor.