Thank you because I confess I laughed even there is no direct line to heaven. And the light that both knew, that which warns on the radio: we are in the air. The same as you already adivinabas to the far, esa, which warns for neophytes, distracted and anque seasoned: in this channel you are recording. Or the from: silence, we are live. The voice-overs of the program or the theatre. All these manifestations, codes and tacit nod that communicate the media side and metaphorically speaking, also in some way, to everyone else, come on and go off as always in many moments and every day.
But vos, master, giant of heart, and with all due respect, Cayetano Santos Mr cute, are behind other cameras that they are no longer ours. In production, in a behind a few scenes that are no longer of this theatre. I venture that this time, faithful to your essence, rebel, spy behind the clouds. I do not think that you settle losing you, just you. Surely you out of the sheath by revolear from beyond timely, shrewd and accurate snacks.
While that, surely, your chair you occupy in some lit bar of polemics, which shouldn’t be missing there above. However, in an act of insurrection, I am and I do not think that death, pilla as she has the last word. Then, does that not tell you what me choked?: say, for example, thank you because I confess that I laughed. Thank you, that I have exploded into a laugh, because the only thing that made me cry de vos was your game. Thank you because you did you charge and made us charge of Alchemy of Buenos Aires and argentina idiosyncrasy, that strange mixture of the Bible and the water heater that reza tango y vos program did. Thank you for the mental attraction with which you hechizaste to all.