Carlito is running to me with a big bag. "Hey weirdo, can you use some photos," he yells from a distance. He gives me the bag. "One photo would be enough," I say directly.
I open the bag, filled with photos, negatives and booklets. "No," he says. "Take everything! What should I do with this trash."
At home I turn around the bag. There is also some other rotten material in it. But its a bag full with memories, memories of the nineties.
The time everything was fine, when they sold their country and borrowed and borrowed a lot of money.
People were blind for the possible consequences. The middle class could travel to Europe, could taste the life of the rich for 10 years to be dropped back after that dramatically.
Many people are moving out of Belgrano at this moment, the ones who are lucky go abroad, the others to the south of the city where the rents are much lower.