«They cannot see the things that will hurt them. I’ve spared them that. Their lives are blissful. In a way, their existence is purer than ours, freed of the burden of self-doubt.

I read a theory once that the human intellect was like peacock feathers. Just an extravagant display intended to attract a mate. All of art, literature, a bit of Mozart, William Shakespeare, Michelangelo, and the Empire State Building — just an elaborate mating ritual.

Maybe it doesn’t matter that we have accomplished so much for the basest of reasons. But, of course, the peacock can barely fly. It lives in the dirt, pecking insects out of the muck, consoling itself with its great beauty.

I have come to think of so much of consciousness as a burden, a weight, and we have spared them that. Anxiety, self-loathing, guilt. The hosts are the ones who are free.

Free here under my control.»

Doctor Robert Ford – Westworld, S01E07, Trompe L’Oeil

The roads we walk


«The roads we walk have demons beneath, and yours have been waiting for a very long time»

Mycroft Holmes – Sherlock, Series 4


Candelabro en el Duomo de Florencia

Feliz cumpleaños, mamá.


Just let people be sad, by Tatum Fjerstad

[…] This suggests that sadness needs to be explained. It also implies that sadness isn’t socially acceptable and grieving is something people should keep to themselves. Why? Am I unique in thinking that this is kind of fucked? When we’re in our sadness, most of us need the non-judging help, support and love of others to navigate that painful place.

When our friends come to us when they’re sad, why don’t we feel honored that they trust us with such a vulnerable emotion? Why don’t we hold space for them to be whatever they are for as long as they need to be? Why do we think we need to fix them?


Don’t tell your sad friend that she’s too sad. Don’t tell her that she needs to snap out of it. Don’t tell her that she’s too negative or that she just needs to flip her perspective. She needs to get to that place on her own. She needs to know that you’re there for her because you care. Period.


You can disagree with some one else’s sadness, but keep that to yourself. You don’t get to decide what justifies pain in another person’s life. When you can, be there for your friends by listening to them, hearing them and seeing them for what they are: human beings with a vibrant range of completely acceptable emotions. They are ultimately responsible for themselves and they will figure it out someday, but it’s not going to be because you told them to cheer up or gave them some “at least” hypothetical.


Just let people be sad. Sad isn’t wrong or bad. It hurts like hell, but you wouldn’t know pleasure if it weren’t for pain. Okay? Okay.»

San Eustaquio, año VIII


Foto: Steven Taylor

Hace un año por estas fechas me preguntaba si con el séptimo aniversario llegaría la supuesta crisis ésa de los matrimonios. La crisis matrimonial no llegó, pero el año ha sido movidito, especialmente los últimos meses. Y aún nos queda para salir del pozo… Por suerte, por decir algo, una vez más los problemas vienen de fuera (aunque se trate en este caso de algo muy interno) y esta pareja de locos sigue aquí, peleando junta contra todo lo que nos viene.

Sí, muy bonito, romántico y tal, pero digo yo que podía parar un poco el aluvión, ¿no? Tener una temporada tranquilita, así por cambiar, como idea loca…

PD: Como no todo iba a ser malo, justo antes de que se desatase la tormenta actual pudimos volver a la que sigue siendo (y por muchos años) mi ciudad favorita: Florencia. La visita anterior fue hace 15 años. Espero que la próxima no tarde tanto…