Balls of Ego and Paper

My Stories

And the year went by. And it left us with our hair electrified from so much lockdown, economic fatality and fear of dying. And it told us, that we are not the gods we thought we were, but only balls made of ego and paper, that at the slightest wind may fall out. And before it left, it combed us, very smoothly, with a  brush of eclipses, solstices and planetary marriages. And it told us all, stop crying, that nothing will end, that it all begins again. A new year, new life, new hope, will arrive. And  yet here we have, a new crystal ball in our hands, waiting to see what you wish to ask, waiting perhaps that you think about Her, a little bit more than those odd time of the past.

The Reflect of the Candle on my Wall

Fiction Story

He appeared like a ghost would at my bedroom’s door. It was him, yes, with his face riddle with wrinkles, with his skin of a colour dark caramel, tired of waking up at dawn to work on the little piece of land that he has owned forever. It was him, there was no doubt, because we were still talking about that same piece of land that Eulalio said, back when we were together, that it would be mine, that it would be for both of us. He is making that promise again, fifty years later, and again, as it was before, it is my only hope for scape.

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La Vie en Rose


It has been 5 beautiful months with my baby girl. To tell you the truth, I had this feeling in my second pregnancy (as well as in the first one) that I was going to have a boy. You can always hear around that mum’s feelings are never wrong and that is why it was a real surprise when a baby girl was born.

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