My name is Dolores Perez Castejón, I have 94 years and then is told that belongs to the history of my life.

So begins the book I just finished writing my grandmother. With a rich plain and precise style that reminds me of the Garcia Marquez takes us on a journey through his life that began in 1914, and today runs a small peaceful town of Murcia, San Cayetano, to be exact.

That of my grandmother on the father, not a life very different from many of a generation that is in imminent danger of extinction. My grandmother's was a happy life, linked to the countryside and the inn run by his father in a small village, a life that was not foreign to the duty and pain. She says in its pages, regrets not having been able to study in college, and no doubt: with a mind so lucid and eloquent as yours would have shone academically, I have no doubt, but I'm sure I had not only just as the woman brave, strong and competitive that it has been throughout his life.

In the journey through the intricacies of his biography, which stretches along just over 120 pages, I met a charming anecdote that I share with you.

In 1951 we were going to Murcia few days because my son Mariano had to undergo an operation for appendicitis. He had surgery at the hospital that was on the street post office, which was private, and at night, my husband and I, we were left to accompany my son.

One of those days, looking through the window of the room we occupied, we saw a big sign right in the building opposite, announcing the film that put the Rex cinema, 'Gone With the Wind'. Seeing him, I told my husband, Mariano, what if we were to see the movie? My husband thought well, so, as my son was very spare, gave him twenty dollars to the nurse Tim, that was his name, to look after Mariano son and we left the cinema. The film lasted four hours and a quarter at the end I fell asleep.

Soon we went to Cartagena and bought the book at the bookstore Escarabajal. It was a copy of 1949 Editions Ayma wearing many frames of film. That book became very popular among some of our friends and family who were constantly asking us to read. The book went this way for the family of Uncle Pepe Madrid, then we had to Julita the La Casilla, then the family of the Los Calixtos Donato, Lola Lozano later and after a long journey, the book finally returned to our family.

There were so many hands that looked through that when the book was returned to us missing covers and some of the leaves were badly damaged. As much as I liked to put the book away safely, and with such zeal that when later I wanted to reread it, not find it.

I was lamenting his loss for years and so sorry that my granddaughter Maria Dolores bought me two old editions of the same book, but none of them took photos.

Not long ago, ordering a cabinet, appeared the book hidden in the background. One of these days I have to take it to bind.

Towards the end of the book gives me a page from here thank you, which remembers being asked to appear in a chapter of Explorers. His part was simple: she was in the town square and Melany, the presenter of the program, would approach to ask him for directions to a particular site. She gave them timely and Melanie finally came to the place successfully. He agreed to do and did very well.

The book would have been impossible without the help of her daughter, my aunt, Dolores A. Madrid, my special aunt, and she knows it, and my cousin, Maria Dolores Madrid, although I prefer to call it Lolita Madrid and I have it on my agenda, and that I have a very special love, very special , and she knows it too. In both want to thank you who have not wavered in his determination to make this book a reality.

My grandmother's life is not unusual. It is full of happy moments and sad moments, like that of all, I suppose. However, there is something that makes it very special, very special and very different, is that it comes from my grandmother.

-Roque.