Example of fighting the dictatorship, wearing a kaiku. Memorial Victims Center, Meliton Manzanas. Sending weapons of attack to Ukraine for peace (I couldn't give, sell, leave, what verb to put, send, come, send). And kids: Mom, are we going to make jokes? A house on a roof. A lot of pastors and sheep caring for pastors.

How do you decide it's time to read a book? Do you have the ability to understand? To understand, what? Message? What message? He can't read. It knows some letters, all vowels and some consonants. Know the question mark, the exclamation mark and point. Follow aloud lines that still only send tiny rays to your ears and eyes. And he knows where the lines start and when they start playing.

I've taken out two books of poems that I had saved. He's five years old. It bursts with laughter because he found it very funny that the sea is in a bottle, that he sees a poem full of shots, letters in the mirror, “mother, reading again,” “again,” he doesn’t know what makes him graceful. The zombies always succeed in us and they have made him illusion the poems that they could sing. He has read all the mischievous lines of the other book, “here he puts glu-glu-glu”, and “this is zzzzzzzzzzz”, “a door!”, “why did he say that?”, “what is it to wake up to dream?” Ignorance.

“I can’t sleep, let me see the old books with the light of the hallway.” He can't read. I've felt a perverse joy when I've seen that a liberating bond almost in the dark didn't know which one to choose from the two books. Will you notice, will you be registered, will you remember…? I'm sure right now, on the apatx mattress and talking with drawings and lines, it's not where I see, it's there. And if you don't forget -- you have all your life for it -- you'll never be alone, never get bored.