The story of Mateu Martorell (Palma, 1939) is that of a man who has always remained in the same place while everything around him changed or disappeared. When he speaks of himself, he is actually speaking of the neighborhood where he has lived for 87 years, of his family, of his neighbors, and, of course, of Can Vinagre. Of the bar counter on Carrer dels Oms from which he has watched the transformation of this urban space. He disappears from the narrative as if his identity were more outside than inside, as part of a generation that explains itself by talking about others. He does not lament his sacrifices nor does he recognize this idea—so contemporary—of self-sacrifice, of a whole life spent working. "Only a year ago I was still serving behind the bar, but now my legs no longer respond," he reveals, calmly.