What I learned from the first (and last) gurus’ writing course I did — Looking back at my most recent articles, it seems my Pandora’s box opened. I cannot blame myself. I put in effort and open-mindedness, but it wasn’t enough. They didn’t convince me, my apologies. Not one of them convinced me about their excessive praise for writing secrets. Eventually, it’s a no-go…

The power of a dreamer hides in his journey — It’s true, dreams can turn out to be nightmares. Yet there’s this very subtle, but tenacious and uninterrupted line that mysteriously envelops dreamers, and then it departs, while still clinging firmly to them. It travels throughout space and time like a spindle, unstoppable, straight towards the horizon and further still…

Speaking of lost and found, farces and people of utmost integrity — This article is dedicated to all those born “crooked” in a society that wants to straighten you out. They are legion, but we will never surrender. One day, when in my early twenties and for some years seriously involved in writing, my mother had the idea of ​​introducing herself to…

We’re only human — don’t put the blame on us — Recently, a not-so-recent article of mine started to gain traction. I should add an “alas,” I guess. Its title — I Don’t Believe in Humankind Anymore — talks about one night of delusion and that philosophical mood that sometimes corners me. …

You cannot be a writer if you aren’t a reader — Reciprocity. So it’s called. You come here to write and earn money, so you start by reading other writers. A lot of other writers. It’s normal: you search for knowledge, inspiration, even guidance, or simply learn how this platform works. Which is its logic. …

These days it’s difficult to see a future. A blurred horizon replaced the few certainties we had. But I remember myself the truths I tell to my little daughter. We all need kindness, especially when talking to ourselves. — I hug and kiss my little daughter, salute my wife with a smile, and go out in the streets towards my new “home” — the one that feels like a motel. This weekend I’m all alone because of the biweekly cycle of my shining new life of separation.

Everything has a beginning and an end, right? Doomsdays vent. — We are authentic idiots who still wage war on each other and even worry about it when the Earth is ready to close on us like a gas chamber and discard the agony we have become. Maybe I should say, “we have always been.” Oh well. Yeah, discard us. No…

Violence is violence, no matter if you attack or defend. And the only dignified way to die is not in the name of violence but free from a logic stranger to life value. — Today, an article (in Spanish and only for subscribers) was published by El País about a Kyiv hospital where one of the newspaper’s journalists went. The featured image is that of a hospital nursery room full of babies, of which, the journalist says, only a few have mum and dad…

Try not to worry about what you cannot change, if you’re able — It’s some nights I cannot sleep well. In November last year, my wife and me we separated. Two nights ago, I had a nightmare linking war to distance: I’ve always been the protective kind, and not living under my family’s roof troubles me these days. Tonight I had no nightmares…