H nce once a shoemaker named John Gublín . Some believe in fairies and elves others, Juan Gublín believed in Cinderella. I thought there was a woman (single) who was waiting somewhere wrapped in a beautiful pink dress, crowned with flowers and garlands. "I have to find that woman," he told John, "But how?" And this obsession became so strong that John could not sleep at night, or making shoes by day and so became very ill and poor. Then one day, as if by magic or fate, had a revelation, and sat in his workshop and began to make a shoe guy, very young, which just entered its hand, hoping that I could only use the specified. It took years to make that shoe, silk lining and decorated with fine lace and embosses of infinite relief. Then he left home and went to see the world. But this is not one of those stories that eat quail: no woman who will enter the shoe, some, or want to try it. Juan Gublín , he believed more than ever in her sleep, kept searching for years, until one day he sat down to drink from a fountain and saw his face on it and only knew that the source was he when he found his eyes, very sad, reflected in still water. Juan Gublín knew that day all we know but never understand, that was no longer young, that his adventure had been in vain, that Cinderella does not exist and that he was not, he had never been, a Prince Charming. He did not have the courage to pull the shoe to the source and returned to his village. He became a blacksmith and married her cousin.
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