Why I write

A simple phrase is enough to shake one's inner life: "Why do I write?" A certainty takes shape, paradoxical and burning: writing is pointless...

The froth of lives

Can we still take refuge in our inner life, behave as rebels against this world that loves nothing but externality and its procession of emotions pushed to their limits...?.

The gold digger

One day, his only desire, he fulfilled it effortlessly each day. He would get up and mentally count the time it took him to do it. He counted the time...