Del maestro Dylan, Like a rolling stone

Once upon a time you dressed so fineYou threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you? People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"You thought they were all kiddin' youYou used to laugh aboutEverybody that was hangin' outNow you don't talk so loudNow you don't seem so proudAbout having to be scrounging for your next meal.How does it feelHow does it feelTo be without a homeLike a complete unknownLike a rolling stone?You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss LonelyBut you know you only used to get juiced in itAnd nobody has ever taught you how to live on the streetAnd now you find out you're gonna have to get used to itYou said you'd never compromiseWith the mystery tramp, but now you realizeHe's not selling any alibisAs you stare into the vacuum of his eyesAnd ask him do you want to make a deal?How does it feelHow does it feelTo be on your ownWith no direction homeLike a complete unknownLike a rolling stone?You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clownsWhen they all come down and did tricks for youYou never understood that it ain't no goodYou shouldn't let other people get your kicks for youYou used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomatWho carried on his shoulder a Siamese catAin't it hard when you discover thatHe really wasn't where it's atAfter he took from you everything he could steal.How does it feelHow does it feelTo be on your ownWith no direction homeLike a complete unknownLike a rolling stone?Princess on the steeple and all the pretty peopleThey're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it madeExchanging all kinds of precious gifts and thingsBut you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babeYou used to be so amusedAt Napoleon in rags and the language that he usedGo to him now, he calls you, you can't refuseWhen you got nothing, you got nothing to loseYou're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.How does it feelHow does it feelTo be on your ownWith no direction homeLike a complete unknownLike a rolling stone?

Esta canción acompañó mi niñez. Recuerdo que me ponía feliz cuando la tocaban en Universal, la estación que mi mamá traía siempre en su auto. No sabía entonces suficiente inglés para entenderla. Luego en la preparatoria leí la letra y supe por fin su significado; pero no fue sino hasta este año, enferma en Barcelona, cuando la entendí.

He sobrevivido el verano con 300 euros pagando renta en Cerdanyoala, convaleciente de varicela, escribiendo reportajes y chateando con mi editora y algunos amigos. Tras Marruecos, terminé refugiada en casa de Javier, primo de E., con Audrey, su roomie francesa, quien me enseñó a cocinar algunas cosas de su tierra y me ponía Caladryl en las ronchas mientras me alentaba a no rascarme.

No he tenido dinero para comer nunca en un restaurante, salvo por el pepito de ternera de la despedida con Audrey. He subsistido básicamente echando mano de mis mejores prácticas aprendidas a los indigentes, alimentándome a base de pan, jamón comprado casi caduco, atún barato, naranjas --que son baratísimas y dulces en verano en Catalunya-- y agua de la llave. Y, con todo, ha sido uno de los mejores veranos de vida. With no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone...