In the Socialist headquarters, agitation had reigned since mid-afternoon. No trace of the epic returns in the final week of the campaign. Outside is not hardcore. Inside, silence, wisdom, no evidence of sympathy. The organizers huddled aimlessly and at eight, when the first ballot came out, the atmosphere of the library reigned again at the time of the final examinations. a lot “we will see”others “to see if there is luck,” half smile.
The militants began to appear when it was still day. Who are the first to appear, Iris and Christina. They have been married for three months, and on Monday, July 24, they have an appointment at a medical consultation for assisted reproduction because they want to become mothers. “Look at what’s written on my flag,” says Cristina, a 26-year-old hotel receptionist in Madrid. On that flag, in the colors of the rainbow, was painted the sign: “We are also a family.”
Just before that, Maestro Joao entered Ferraz. He is famous on TV for his participation in reality how survivors, But above all because he is able to guess the future just by looking at the buttocks of the person concerned. She has kilometer eyelashes and a divine complexion. He’s smiling like those campaign days when he never stopped asking for a vote for Pedro Sanchez. He was accompanied by Santi Rivero, the Socialist deputy in the Council of Madrid.
Since noon, spontaneous cries have been heard demanding the terrorist vote for the socialist candidate. Some clueless back from a day at the pool. Some reprimand that they must have missed the democratic nap. “To the run!” A young man shouts from his car.
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Most of the windows for single berths on Ferraz are closed. Right in front of the Socialist headquarters, some very graceful young men, idols of poetry, who have lost their shirt, appear, displaying the flag of the Community of Madrid and celebrating each popular seat. In the next building, a couple timidly reclines and lowers a rainbow flag. Some colleagues remember what happened at other election events, where friendly neighborhood residents made fascist remarks.
A South American couple is asking those who control access to the HQ to be put on a virtual waiting list, should those who have confirmed fail. Inside, a man who has recently arrived in Spain and belongs to the Socialist Party of Norway is overwhelmed by the scrutiny and seizes the opportunity to tell those who want to listen that he does not understand why Alberto Núñez Viejo did not go to the last debate held on RTVE.
After half past ten at night, sheer wisdom continues on the street. A murmur reigns on the sidewalks and on the balconies. No one dares to celebrate his victory or the defeat of his enemies. Inside, there’s applause and shouting, and it doesn’t exactly come from the press room. Socialists do not give credence to the positive statements that Qattara makes. One of Ferraz’s workers explained to reporters that the cries of joy were not because of the results, but “because the food has arrived.” actually. Those who are accustomed to smile swarm. attachments dog And Sanxi bitch. The sheets are said to sell for €120 at Wallapop.
The president arrives. There are cries of support and complaint. There is joy within the headquarters, faces far less tense. “Oh, mother, let us wait,” some comment as they go up and down the stairs, walk through the corridors, and sigh with joy. With 95% of the Socialist sympathizers, who had been in hiding until a short time, screened, gleefully enter and meet those who were already inside.
Sanchez has done it again. What, it’s still too early to say. As Jose Marcos says, it is San Judas Tadeo, the patron saint of the impossible. Saint Doug Thaddeus. On the street, it would seem whoreby Rigoberta Bandini.
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