Judith walks among the graves with the ease of walking around the house. You must be the only person who considers a graveyard “cozy”. “It’s my home & rdquor ;, He shrugs. From the age of 3 he lives next to niches. “I have not been able to have quieter neighbors & rdquor;, smile.
Poblenou Cemetery. If someone suddenly ran into a bunch of spirits here and fixed it the old-fashioned way – running into the light, a la Carol Anne in ‘Poltergeist’ – they would come to this house. It is just a few feet from the rows of tombstones. “Not many,” Judith points out. The wall of my grandfather’s room overlooks the & rdquor; cemetery.
At first glance, no one would compare her to the houses of horror movies. The door leads to the garden at the entrance to the enclosure. If you stop just before going through the access passage to the tombs and look to the left, you will see Manuel sitting in his chair reading the newspaper in front of his house. “Manuel Arias González & rdquor ;, appears on a run. “94 years & rdquor ;, he says, gripping the cane. And he gives you a wrinkled look that seems to have lived longer than Jordi Hurtado. “I entered Cemeteries here in the year & mldr; (He thinks about it) I do not remember. 54 or 55 & rdquor ;, snorts. “The bosses loved me a lot, I was a hard worker,” he says with a big mouth. Rolls his eyes as soon as you let go Paranormal questions like Iker Jiménez. “Buah – little iron.” It’s a job like any other & rdquor ;.
“29 years & rdquor; working among graves. “I was the palette,” he details. He opened the niche and covered it again. Cover and open, cover and open & rdquor ;. His wife cleaned pantheons and niches “at the request of the people & rdquor ;. Manuel’s eyes blur at mentioning her. “He’s been dead for two years,” he says. That is why he hardly ever enters the cemetery, he justifies himself. It reminds him of her. “How I cleaned the pantheons & mldr; now when I enter I start to cry & rdquor ;.
“It was like a park to me”
“I really liked going with my grandmother to the cemetery & rdquor ;, the granddaughter remembers next to me. “When she went to clean niches, she took me with her, because she couldn’t leave me home alone. And when I was a little girl I used to edit my films –he smiles-. I was going through the alleys, while my grandmother cleaned. It was like a park to me & rdquor ;. He says it – he immediately insists – with all due respect to the deceased. “I didn’t trade my childhood here for nothing & rdquor ;.
Judith Arias has lived in the cemetery since she was 3 years old. He’s 24. Yes, he watches scary movies at home. “In fact, it’s my favorite genre,” he promises. Movies scare me more than reality& rdquor ;, laughs. “I always say that you have to fear the living more than the dead & rdquor ;.
She can tell without crossing her fingers that she has heard screams that came out of the cemetery when it had already closed: “Please, please, I want to get out of here! They weren’t spirits, no, but someone who had been locked up. “It’s common here, people don’t look at what time & rdquor; closes,” he says. “We have had some with a hysterical attack & rdquor ;. She tells them with a domestic routine to go left -there is a door that can be opened from the inside, the one that leads to Taulat-, and “to close when leaving & rdquor ;.
Grim anecdotes
Judith has given more unintentional scares than Leticia Sabater’s videclips. “It was Halloween –remember one of her thousand anecdotes-, and I decided to dress up ‘low cost’: as an elderly person, one of those typical village ones. I left after dinner, at eleven o’clock, in the middle of the night, from the & rdquor; cemetery. The hearts of the people in the bar across the street almost burst. “They shouted & mldr; & rdquor ;.
The mossos have even stopped him when he entered the house. “Where are you going? Where are you going?” She had forgotten her keys and was jumping over the cemetery fence at 3 in the morning. “I came down with all my calm and said: ‘To my house’. Imagine the faces of the policemen. ‘Are you hesitating us?’ No, I live there ‘& rdquor ;. His uncle had to come out to attest.
He’s never been afraid here, Judith insists. “In the end it is your house. What fear are you going to have? & Rdquor ;. No, he doesn’t believe in ghosts. You haven’t even had to ask for a miracle from the witchcraft. “For now,” he laughs. I’m not ruling it out & rdquor ;.
“Many come who believe in him. And they say they see it & rdquor ;. Manuel points with his cane as a guide the grave with the most offerings in the cemetery. The Santet tombstone is parapeted with a glass and an urn-like slot for supernatural requests. Even Wikipedia warns that if you stare at the gap in the tombstone, you can see the afterlife. “What are you going to see! & Rdquor ;, Manuel shakes his head. In all these years, the granddaughter assures next door, nothing worthy of ‘has ever happened to them.Fourth millenium‘. “Never ever & rdquor ;.
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“There was other neighbors –Remember Manuel already settled in his chair in the cool- and down there, other & rdquor ;. He points with the cane up to four doors. It’s the last family left here. The last, in fact, that still lives in a cemetery in Barcelona. They share a house with their granddaughter, uncle, father and grandfather. And have they ever met a lord. “And who are you?” They are approached to ask the number of that niche. They enter without itching as if it were an office.
“If I had to leave this house now, it would be my death,” confesses Manuel. I have taken a huge affection & rdquor ;. He lives here “since 57 & rdquor ;, this time he says the year without hesitation. “In the past,” adds his granddaughter, “people who worked in the cemetery were offered a house to live with their families & rdquor ;. “And here we are,” Grandpa shrugs. And until I die. When I die, this is already left & rdquor ;. Does one take away the fear of death here? Judith nods without hesitation. “You see it for what it is –he replies-: part of life & rdquor ;.
Reference-www.elperiodico.com