Steve Huxley, happy. (Picture by Dani Ruiz)

On a day like today, I could not go to sleep without first opening a beer and spend some time doing these two things that I love: thinking and writing.

I think, about earlier experiences and the significance that the individual and collective action of people can have. I write, in memory and in honour of you, Steve, that have left us like orphans: all of us those who, directly or indirectly, have been your pupils.
You, who after growing up in Liverpool lived an intense life in Leeds, and especially in Sheffield. Who came to Barcelona and consolidated your role as a teacher, to later embark on an adventure that unsuspectingly led you to live a life in which ups and downs would always walk hand in hand. You, who with your natural attraction have captivated thousands of people, who are now a little richer thanks to the doses of inspiration you have taught throughout your life.

When a person wants to live so badly and has so many projects, it is proper to say that he's young. In this sense, I will always picture you like that frail-looking naughty-smiled child, who on the other hand had a life-long experience behind; like that generous young guy with the beard of a wise old man, who has given much more than what he has ever received in return.

Because Steve, if there's one thing I've learnt from people like you, is that the most beautiful thing we can hope for in this life is to leave mark on those around us. And you have been the source of inspiration from which many of us have drunk. Therefore, as you used to say, I tip my boina -beret- to this great example of beauty that you have provided in life; to the legacy you have so wisely distributed, that will last over time through the inspiration you have awakened in those with whom you have shared your life.

Because if I'm up this late writing in front of my computer, it is because of you. "Cervesia semper".

Salut i birra Maestro!


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