Nicolás Maduro holds and teaches a blue booklet, a toy microlibro where three letters per page will not fit. His forefinger and thumb seem about to make him dust, and when he puts it in front of his face to show it to the camera it looks like he's going to eat it. It is a copy of the Constitution of Venezuela. A homeopathic example that will leave the president hungry if he ingests it in the end. See Nicolás Maduro, a giant, a male with a mustache and a deep voice, holding on to that little paper of smoking paper as a lifeline causes the words of the interview he made Jordi Évole in Saved lose all their sense. Nothing Maduro said it matters in the face of the image of a guy who grasps and exhibits a toy legitimacy.
And that Maduro spoke what he wanted. Even looking at the camera, passing the interviewee and breaking the minimum protocol of an interview. Even addressing Pedro Sánchez directly and pointing with his finger, with that same finger that squeezed the constitution of Venezuela. He was so pleased that he allowed himself the luxury of speaking on behalf of an entire country, rescuing the old rhetoric of third worldism, remembering Vietnam, repeating the expression "backyard" and not forgetting the priceless biblical passage to David's anti-imperialism against Goliath, as if Che Guevara was still giving speeches at the UN or the Sandinistas had just overthrown Somoza. Seeing him handle the little book among his dedazos it was hard to imagine him as David, but he did not look like the Goliath who subjugated the Venezuelans. All the more, a Tyrant Banderas about to be destroyed by his own ridicule and more than just one, abandoned even by that sentimental left to which he interfered with pathos. His speech, more than mature, was gone, ready for compost.
It was not necessary, therefore, that Évole raised the questions that he did not utter, since Maduro is enough to discredit himself, although many of us would have appreciated a more harsh attack.