I go back with Fidel to the station and have to wait a while for the Tren Blanco. I walk with Matías round the corner. He is a very curious boy, wants to talk about foreign countries, about travelling and about people who did that. He doesnt have a . "How do you call such paper," he asks me. "Passport," I say.
He works with his brother and mother. His father does not take part; he is working at night at Retiro station as a security agent. "Doesnt that make enough money for a living," I ask stupidly.
He gives a cool impression, following the last trends. His hair is short, like almost everybody. It is the Suárez style. He tells me about Walter Olmos death, the popular Quarteto singer. It was like a silence for him. "He made something possible with his music, gave me an identity, the feeling of being equal to others."
He had seen him giving a concert, a month before shooting himself in the head.