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This is the saddest zine I've ever made. It took
my friend Claudia, my girlfriend Beth and I three 
whole months to make it. We wanted to make something 
like a children's book, so we took a poem of mine 
about some sort of postapocaliptical city and il- 
lustrated it. We later printed the files using a 
blend of risography and silkscreen printing. Then 
my friend Claudia lost almost all the copies we had. 
And we used to find broken pages from the zine all 
around Barcelona, never really understanding what 
exactly happened to the 40+ lost Pèsol fanzines.
So it's the rarest of the rarest, and still, some-
how, one of my favourites.

Here's the scanned pdf file
And here's a gif:

and a translated version of the poem:

Good night, bear
Good night, fox
Good night, plane tree
Good night, strange figure.

Good night, empty field after the fire
Good night, avenues.

Good night, vast stretches of flat land
Good night, pedestrians.

Good night, holy graves
Good night, empty buildings.

Good night, structures under construction,
protected from the winds.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⢼⠀⠀⠒⠒⠤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠔⠒⠉⠁⢀⣼⡀⠀⢠⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⡧⠚⠉⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠰⣖⠊⠉⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠚⠉⠁⢀⡇⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⣤⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣎⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⠤⣀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠶⠒⠊⠉⠉⠉⠓⠦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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