Summer, which should be a period of rest for carnival lovers, becomes an extension of the festival for many in Cádiz. Far from disconnecting, average carnival-goers seem to live in an emotional loop where February, the carnival month, stretches throughout the year, and the rest of the calendar acts merely as an announcement for the next edition.
While most people enjoy vacations, beaches, or local gastronomy, a segment of carnival enthusiasts and authors are already immersed in searching for ideas for the next contest. They can be seen walking with a lost gaze, stopping to jot down phrases on their phones, unsure if they will form the basis of a historic song or a mere whim. This often solitary and reflective creative process marks the summer's course.
Meetings to plan future meetings, debates on how to improve the contest year after year, and speculation about group names, author pairings, and potential signings, fill the conversations. The formation of projects and the surprise at other carnival-goers' decisions are common during this period.
Many who claim to love carnival end up suffering from its illness. It's not the same to enjoy a passion as to turn it into a chronic condition.
This extreme dedication can transform life into a 'themed office' of the festival. The current summer is shaping up to be marked by the controversy surrounding Juan Carlos Aragón, where divided opinions generate heated debates. The need for zero tolerance towards gender violence is emphasized, contrasting with the attitude of 'carnival patients' who seem immune to reason.
A revolutionary summer is advocated: living fully, enjoying activities unrelated to carnival such as traveling, loving, reading, playing sports, or attending concerts. The goal is to rediscover the world beyond social media and WhatsApp groups, where even in mid-June, technical details of songs are still being discussed. The proposal is to keep the flame of carnival alive without getting burned by it, imagining songs while enjoying the summer.
Surprisingly, after laughing at the obsessive ones, one might discover that the 'patient' is not always next door but within oneself. The article concludes that the story is not just about carnival-goers, but about the clinical history of half the city, and likely, of the reader themselves.
