Elitist. Here, among volcanoes, the ultimate accusation, the supreme one against those who defend the territory from a Manrique-esque perspective, is that of being elitist. It's what takes you out of the world, because thief and all those charades no longer matter on this island. Well, if you don't steal, you're weird or an idiot, but just that. Well, or useless or not useful for projects. But let's stop, you understand me.
If one looks up elitist in the very real language of the Academy and even down the throat, well, it's not really going that way. Come on, it's like son of a bitch: it's never said because you want to point out that someone was born to a prostitute. Unless the prostitute was a millionaire, and then son of a bitch would point that way. For being lucky. So when the Foundation is called elitist, what is really being said is: "You left me out, you son of a bitch." More or less? Because they see it as a cake, not as a responsibility. And I'm thinking now that these accusers of elitist are a bit much. Let's see, why horses and camels as works of art and not donkeys? And why in the sea and the land and not in the air? You know, a donkey flying? I also have my artistic, silly-modern streak. And I have an idea to finish all this off and close the circuit.
Speaking of donkeys, below the Cliff, in front of La Graciosa and under the Mirador del Río is Burro Beach (Donkey Beach). And who better deserves a tribute than the poor and marginalized donkey and the poor people who, more than once, turned their necks and didn't see it flying? So I thought that since there is also a river there, it works for us, and we don't have to go through the Thames issue first. Besides, now, the English have more than enough with their stupidities.
The idea is to make some large floating donkeys, in the air, anchored under the Cliff and in front of the Mirador, which is where people pass by and not through the boredom of the San José castle museum. Not just an idea, a project, which excites more. Imagine the four donkeys of the apocalypse floating between your gaze and the void with the islets in the background. I put the four and apocalypse so that the artist can sue for plagiarism; you know, river, horses, in front of Caesar? something will have to be given to him for the bile because he will never, ever, forgive himself for not thinking of it, what a lost opportunity, to make Caesar famous throughout the world. Ha! And the income.
On very windy days, they could land and be stored in large underground warehouses, next to the restored salt flats, and we would have another super tourist center. The decoration, lighting and construction of the warehouses, of course, I would leave to my fellow artists, lest I be seen as elitist and eat everything. And that's where the money is. The donkeys would be the cheapest. And the warehouses, when the tourists leave, could serve as cisterns. The poles are turning.
In exchange for giving up the copyrights, I would only ask that they bury the power lines of the Cliff, lest I electrocute a donkey. They will also understand that better than electrocuting houbara bustards and other birds. That art is art. And you can play the donkey with the birds. But playing the donkey with art is bad bird.
And I would fulfill an old dream that would also unite many philosophical thoughts and studies on religions and consciousness, which would be to be able to say: "Look, a donkey flying!" Ha! And that it was there. Huge! Hundreds of meters high, in the middle of the most glorious landscape dreamed of. I leave the rest of the meanings and their concretion to my friend Castro. He's sure to get a book out of the subject. But don't make them pantheistic or 'metaphysique' them too much: they are flying donkeys. That's enough.
I already have the colors of the four donkeys, but I'm not saying them because, knowing the place, a battalion of colorists and colorers is going to appear calling me elitist and I only have four donkeys to color. And now close your eyes, enter through the white tunnel of the Mirador, approach the balcony and imagine them there, floating in the immensity of that breathtaking landscape. Four huge and large donkeys at the same time, as your brain adapts.
The great donkey-ness on Donkey Beach. Ha! But, keep looking and observe that when the wind blows well, a tremendous donkey-dick comes out between the legs of two of them. Parity is guaranteed, together with the nonsense. And they know I'm right; no matter how much it hurts, the photos from the Cliff with the four donkeys flying with the sunset in the background would go around the world a thousand times. And I would be very famous.
But I realized a long time ago that it was a lie, that when they tell you: "look, a donkey flying!" it's a story, like horses harvesting seafood or camels directing traffic. The art of the story of telling the art. But, damn it!, I can't get the flying donkey out of my head. What a magnificent donkey-ness. And for those who come after, don't worry: there are the goats, the rabbits and even the rabbit herders who are not peasants, because those already have theirs. And what a good fight it cost.
And it doesn't stop there. Because of the location where they are, the passengers entering and leaving Lanzarote would have an amazing view from their windows of the four floating donkeys. And no sooner had they landed than they would think of going to the Mirador to see the donkeys calmly. I'm thinking of Dimas' cable car and that it could be die-cut by some little baskets hanging from the donkeys, and thus take tourists up and down to Burro Beach, as well as in balloon-donkeys. But it could only be done a few days and for a few, and we would go back to the elitist thing.
