Episode V: Mick
A single letter changes everything, as it almost always happens. The first time I had this microphone in my hands was presented to me as "Mic" and I thought of a trusty abbreviation, as a gesture of affection, like someone who says Palo to a girl named Paloma. To the touch it is soft (I speak of the microphone!), To the ear it sounds nice because it has incorporated speakers, it is elegant in its colors black, fuchsia, gold or silver; but in my exploration of the senses I soon discovered the sixth: the meaning of dance. When I took a close look at its label I checked that it doesn't have a nickname of three letters but a proper name of four: his name is Mick and that final "k" changes everything. As it happens almost always. I grab the microphone with my right hand and, automatically and unconsciously, both elbows flap outwards, my knees shake, my feet move and I start dancing like a chick. The first song I choose in this improvised karaoke is one of Maroon 5 with Christina Aguilera: Moves Like Jagger. Suddenly I feel like one of the Satanic Majesties, a seventy-four-year-old kid who repeats the spastic movements of his twenties, a millionaire beggar who serves a rock and roll banquet to which everyone is invited and who, according to those who know, has a secret pact to stay eternally young. It's the magic of music! If a microphone without a voice to join him says nothing, a microphone called Mick invites you to play to be one of the Rolling Stones for a while, although the repertoire is not exclusive: it is used to connect it by bluetooth to any gadget and rehearse a bolero by Armando Manzanero, a ballad by Mariah Carey, a tango by Julio Sosa or a chamamé by Ramona Galarza. In my case, I get infected by osmosis of his ability to dance and I shake as if I was about to have an attack while I monopolize Mick and sing my favorite song and then another and then another but I want more. Always the same: I can't get no satisfaction.