The Madrid PSOE has gathered around a beer that seems to be one of those Spanish melancholy beers, the kind that are drunk to the sighs of cards and an innkeeper with impossible, distant and already stolen eyes. I imagine myself Juan Lobato, maroto kings And Felix Bolanos, which I see inviting us to longing and beer in a sign like a rock, which, however, lacks stew and joy, and I do not know if it will miss beer. “A few beers with…” is called an act or a cycle that I don’t know if they’ll do or if they’ll do more if one day it comes up. Pedro Sanchez to have a beer with some curritos the party puts on that the PSOE drives around with a delivery truck like the one from Cruzcampo, hardworking red, turning out extras for the president’s commercials. Act, cycle or rite, this sadness, and even more so the sadness of the Madrid PSOE, repetitive and evocative like tides, and the beer goes well with it, as it accompanies the dragging dominoes already dragging their feet. who sweeps you out of her life or life at the last minute.