The Absurd Journey of the Writer to vicuña Years Has

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We arrived in Vicuña at 12 o’clock on Friday night looking for accommodation. In the square she sang -oh, surprise- the great Cecilia “Baciami con passione, prendimi, stringimi con ardore”, on the track of the Gigliola Cinquetti. Full, couples linked, humming, zangoloteo. On the stage more than discreet the star kept shining when supposed extinct. “This is my people!”, “Vamos Vicuña”!, interspersed the singer between cables and short steps in ca…