The first time I put on some mountain boots was to go to a tribute to a friend. On the free radio of the village, we were doing a radio show, and I was talking about literature. Or what I was playing. The first time I picked up an airplane was with a crew of writers. We went to Vigo, and from there to Pontevedra, and since then you can presume that Igor Estankona is my friend, but he gets me a little scared when he reads my stuff. My first refusal was Susak's, Patxi Larrión gave me a letter in my hand, and although I threw it, I remember that one of the phrases was that they preferred long-term poems, or something like that. The first time I lost in the car appeared in Durango, by Aulesti, and came to the coca that my father took us to the Durango Fair by Urkiola, and then reassured me. When I wrote for the first time in the press I wrote about the Sacred Heart, which was in the City Hall of Leitza, but I realized that these books are not true, like many other things.