And we'll be late to get there.
From Barcelona I live.
This has just begun when we went to Seville.
There was more traffic on the train.
The hours don't pass.
I'm going to have a coffee.
I'm going to have a coffee.
Old friend smokes.
What can this be?
A hell to live.
If you don't see a woman.
We've been hanging on the train for 12 hours.
The smoke of the joints.
Its effect begins to exercise.
The old woman next to me begins to smile.
She tells me that's bad.
But she doesn't stop laughing.
The old woman, me and my friend.
Hanging on the train.
How she gets mad.
And feels rejuvenated.
Music.
Music.
This compartment.
Begins to tone.
The smoke goes inside.
Of that young soldier.
We are already four.
Hanging on the train.
Someone told a joke.
He's fat but he's fine.
We keep smoking.
And someone brings to drink.
The Englishman on the other side.
Asks for beer for him.
And we are already five.
Hanging on the train.
You don't have to tell him anything.
And nobody smokes in English.
We are already in Galicia.
The trip is going to end.
It hasn't been wonderful.
But it hasn't been bad.
We are going to finish everything.
Hanging on the train.
The next trip.
I'm going to Seville again.
The next trip.
I'm going to Seville again.
The next trip.
Hanging on the train.
The next trip.
Hanging in the...
...Train!