Whenever I return to work after several days, I have to clean email. Fifty posts and none for me. Call for topics that do not, chain I do not know why I go, any offers of viagra and ultimately (¿?¿?) jobs that stink a mile away ...
Today I repeated the same operation as usual, but among the post had a sender that I missed. I opened the message and led to a 'Dear journalist, though we do not know, I have a debt of gratitude to you ... "
The reader wrote to me by an article ago two years. It was the summary of a workshop at the Library Andalusia of a writer of children's books. I should not have written it, because I'm not in the culture section. But I was excited to meet the author of the stories I devoured as a child, so I went and I spent two hours listening to this whirlwind of a man who kept his mouth drop headlines.
My article began with an anecdote that had starred a young girl, the daughter of the author of the mail.
The reader told me that her daughter, meet Jordi Sierra i Fabra , it had been a very important experience and my words (I should not writing), made him feel as if he had been there (Is there anything better than you can say to a journalist?). As nice as unusual, really.
His daughter was encouraged to write and have won a prize with his first novel, and this good man had agreed that local newspaper article, which still had and decided to email me ...
Write that article I took a fight in my head, because it meant going to talk not in others. "What's your writer is not what people are going to read tomorrow," released when he was very angry, to give relevant the other things I did not. And that day I thought was right.
Luckily readers take away our right.
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