The theory that The devil is in the details It does not correspond -as far as I know- to any religious current. Is about an Anglo-Saxon saying that underlines how the little things, those that seem most trivial or anecdotal, move the gears of any human activity. Those little things can provoke from the emotion of crying, as in Serrat’s song until the relief of laughing when a child throws us off balance with his spontaneity; going through sincere gratitude, simply because someone gives us the right of way. Are they bullshit? No, I think they are fundamentals of a healthy life. AND David Bisbal’s spontaneous greeting to a group of fans, that the other day they were waiting for him at the exit of a concert to ask him for photos, falls into that category. The artist from Almería has become the meat of memes and his phrase: “How are the machines?…” has run through WhatsApp groups at the level of the legendary “It’s not like I was Bin Laden!”, released by Belén Esteban; or of that one “Hello, I’m Edu, Merry Christmas & rdquor ;, who anticipated years ago the ember that the mobile phone operators would give us.
But Bisbal’s gesture does not hide any publicity claim or respond to a -calculated?- attack of anger in the middle of a ‘reality show’. He expresses great respect to the other, from naturalness; and also thanks, because without those kids who are dying for a “fotillo& rdquor; neither would he be where he is. I met Bisbal years ago, when he was already a member of that ethereal category that we call “famous & rdquor ;, and the truth is that his sympathy, honest, convinced me. In addition, to dismantle the numerous prejudices that we can fabricate in our heads, she surprised us all with her deep knowledge of the history of Ancient Egypt. I don’t know if he still has that passion, but I am glad that he keeps in his vocabulary two of the most valuable expressions that exist: ”please” and “thank you & rdquor ;. I don’t know if you can reach the end of the world with them, as my mother used to say, but at least they remove the danger of becoming an asshole.