memories sometimes emerge without apparent cause and this is connected to my old. As an original gift for her birthday, my mom took me to the Central Post Office building in Buenos Aires, because there was a service of recording on acetate discs. I'm talking about 1948 or so. Cabins were similar to the current call centers were separated by a glass and on the other hand, was the operator who gave the signal to speak or sing into the microphone. The disc was black celluloid, that is totally flexible and recorded on one side at 78 rpm. So it was recorded a few words to let my dad for his birthday I sang a song that was very famous in those days with an air of Far West (song of Pecos Bill) belonging to an animated film and as a second voice, very softly, it was listening to my mother that I was ear signs that things should say, because the recording was done in one go and there was no possibility of stopping or edited. Finally, the acetate that was also a characteristic odor, I delivered a paper on wood with a hole depth in the center you could see the label where it said what was recorded
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