i always wanted to be another person, to be someone beside myself. to dispose of a single identity didn't seem enough. living a single life wasn't enough for me. and half-joking, i came up with a pseudonym for myself, harry caine, an adventurer who, as fate would have it, became a writer. at that time, i had him author all the scripts and stories that i wrote. i came up with a standard biography to fill the back flap of his books. he had been a sailor, an industrial spy, the doorman at a parisian cabaret, a boxer, a waiter and an advertisement hand-double. a self-made man, active and attractive like an english spy, vital, skeptical and sarcastic. for many years, mateo blanco and harry caine shared the same person, me, but a time came when, all of a sudden, i couldn't be anyone other than harry caine. i became my pseudonym. . just as i had planned, a heterodox writer and, never better stated, a self-made man, one might even say, "self-written man". there was only one detail i had not foreseen, harry would be a blind writer.
after having written five dramas, i had finally managed to write a script for a comedy, or that's what i thought. i wanted to change genres.  to take a risk and i swear i accomplished that, the part about taking a risk.
the reading didn't work out. we were both too nervous. the first meeting and the reading we did only served to make me realize that woman's very presence perturbed me.
i enjoyed making her up, styling her and dressing her. lena could be the shirley mclaine of "the apartment" and the audrey hepburn of "breakfast at tiffany's", or even goldie hawn.
your mother didn't like lena.
i, on the other hand, liked her a lot, and she liked me.
ernesto junior also liked me.
i was hoping to use him for my own ends. his father had asked him to make a documentary about the shooting.
when we finished shooting, i quickly selected all the takes for the film so that i could rescue lena as soon as possible from the martel house. the situation had
i felt as though i had died with lena. the mateo- film-director who had left madrid would never return.