¿De qué hablamos entonces cuando hablamos de normalidad? No creo que nadie lo sepa. De hecho, lo normal es andar perdido, carecer de certezas, no saber qué hacemos aquí; preguntarse por qué mueren las cosas, los amores se rompen o traicionamos a los que queremos. Ver en las dudas y perplejidades de los otros nuestras propias dudas y perplejidades. Lo normal, si me apuran, es querer cantar en un coro. Reunirse con los que andan tan confundidos como nosotros y ponerse a cantar con ellos la canción más triste que quepa imaginar. Por ejemplo, Eleanor Rigby, esa canción que habla de la gente solitaria, silenciosa y amable.
Gustavo Martín Garzo
Aah, look at all the lonely people
Aah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Aah, look at all the lonely people
Aah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
