I was born in a Castilian city, conservative and literally abducted by its bishopric, since a French warrior bishop took it from the Arabs. Sandstone of different shades is the essence of the old Castilian character of the city. In its most glorious times it had an active Jewish community, which, as is the tradition of this people, were engaged in finance, commerce, manufacturing and art. What distanced them from their tough neighbors, busy in farming, raising sheep and bullfighting at local parties. Except themselves, the numerous clergy and the administrators and officials of the City Council, the vast majority were illiterate. We all received our first communion in the most feverish of possible religious environments, in which the population turned all their repressed senses into harsh processions and a vast offer of playful-religious spectacles. The high schools had to attend the schools of the bishopric and the public were for those of the slums, usually atheists already from thei...
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