19 Días y 500 Noches is Joaquín Sabina’s witty chronicle of a break-up so brief it lasts "lo que duran dos peces de hielo en un güisqui on the rocks". One second the lovers are clinking glasses, the next she is waving from a taxi while he stays behind with nothing but a vanity bag full of grievances, honey still on his lips and frost in his hair. For once, the self-confessed "malo" had truly wanted to love, yet she didn’t, and that gap sends him crashing from heaven’s gate to the gutter.
The song then paints a Technicolor hangover: smoky bars, budget Cinderellas, cocaine-fuelled debts, and all-night laments where he squanders both wallet and soul. Determined not to overwhelm her with flowers or clichés, he chooses instead a marathon of excess, convincing himself that forgetting her took only nineteen days and five hundred endless nights. The result is a cocktail of humor, bitterness, and street-wise poetry that turns heartbreak into an anthem you can shout along to while learning some of Spain’s sharpest wordplay.