In Madrid alone there are 240,000 loners who suffer immense loneliness surrounded by six million people. Shipwrecked in a sea of crowds. Cities are increasingly populous and less human.
When I get to them from my small town in Fuerteventura I feel Paco Martínez Soria, disoriented, pushed in a hurry which are not mine, surrounded by unknown faces.
I enter the subway but there, pressed against each other, we all ignore each other. The faces look down, towards the screen of that mobile phone that communicates us with an unreal world of false social networks, of false friends, of false likes.
Many sketch from time to time some elusive smile, something silly because nobody watches them. Most have their ears connected to headphones from where a music as crushing as the rattle of the wagon in which we travel appears. It is the height of isolation, sound as well as physical.
We have never been closer to make the dystopia of A happy world, the famous novel written by Aldous Huxley in 1932. A supposed society of the future dominated by scientific and technological advances where soma, a free drug that like chocolate is found everywhere, cures penalties but at the same time cancels emotions basic.
Those headphones, those little pants, have begun to become soma dispensers. So many people and so many alone. Some will take, in spite of themselves, weeks without talking to a friend, something terrible in a society like ours, so in need of others.
I feel sorry because I'm hooked too. As the great Borges said, "your absence surrounds me / like the rope to my throat."