The Mayor is dead...

Some days ago, in fact exactly one week ago, I wrote about the Mayor who got three bullets in his head... well, I forgot to say, that he was not dead. He had been transported to the biggest hospital from the region, put into deep sleep and operated upon. The doctors needed many hours to extract the bullets out of his head. 3 days ago they awoke him from the coma, and soon the mayor was able to breathe by himself. Wonderful doctors!
I just heard that he died. After everybody thought he would recover, he finally died of complications after contracting the flu.
I am extremely sad. Not that I knew him. But I have known his wonderful little town in the mountains for more than 40 years. As a child, when we were on our holidays in Benidorm, in the summer, the water was rare, and when there was some, it was quite polluted. We always drove to Polop to get water from the municipal fountain. Even the better bars, in Benidorm, were advertising:
"Get coffee with water from Polop here!"
And later, as an artist I always went to Polop to paint, again and again. It is simply the most beautiful town around here and the kind of place, which never loses its magic for an artist´s eye..... I was there last year, to make some sketches... the town was full of colours, and full of joy.
Today Polop wears black, and tomorrow too, and the day after tomorrow too...
And they still have no idea, who did it. It seems so easy to kill and get away with it nowadays... I remember having thought that about Madeleine McCann... or is it only in these southern lands?

Me, rushing back from Benidorm yesterday night, where I looked at the final of the Rubgy World Cup with my parents. If you want to see the beautiful gift I got from my mother there, have a look at Rug Mug,
I know, our Smartie looks much better in reality than on my painting, but well, cars are not my speciality. I´ll work on it, I promise.
I rushed because the night before, in a small town called "Polop de la Marina", five kilometers away from here, the Mayor has been shot through the open window of his car as he arrived home, 3 bullets in the head. This is the kind of things from which one always thinks, they happen somewhere else. As I was driving home late in the night, I just imagined a sniper waiting for me at my home... awful! I´m normally not such a "poule mouillée" (a wet hen, as we call fearful people in France!), quite the contrary. But somehow yesterday I felt very uncomfortable and when I arrived home, I looked more than one time around before I went out of the car!
And as you see: I´m still alive!