I'm in front of the mirror, where I know that existentialism that I have actually appears in the foreground of the mirror ... I love life… And really, really, I realize that on the automatic I'm made up of uncertainty chubascos ... And I recognize, I recognize that it hurts me, it hurts me ... And I live intensely the experience of ignorance, of lack ... And there I see again that I have always used reading in order to satisfy constant curiosity ... And a few readings come to mind about the epicurism, the hedonism, the mythology, the religion, the sociology and the psychology of my adolescence. And now I can't, I can't. And why? Because maturity, to a large extent, has meant swallowing by the system, because it can and has been, and because it is occurring in this state of forced isolation.

I am a mother of three children, motherhood is a pleasure for me; I am also a teacher, and the fact that there is time in the world of knowledge also gives me pleasure. I settle on the Ethos: I think I'm lucky and it all depends on the situation and the measure, and it's being, and it is. And now I oppress this existentialist tone; in the mirror that I cannot remove from my eyes, the questions of when I was a teenager appear again; I will introduce the beloved mother of all the questions, or rather, I will write the words that define her; behold, my question: “Does this make sense?” His name and surname are those four terms.

My mother, we know that we must listen to the good mother. And I know that mom is a sincere question, and that in my head it's about answering the answers of the children who worship the decent mother, I try to work out reasonable answers and the action stays on the try, alone. And in that attempt, emotions are triggered, especially those generated by ignorance. And although I know that at the base of knowledge is ignorance, I live very intensely the depth of emptiness.

I feel the warmth of existentialism, sometimes too much, sometimes less… I don’t know if “for good” the “millionth” of society made me believe that there could be no health pandemic. I found myself critical: I am aware that the increase in the price of bananas in the society of the commodification of all products causes so many deaths between the elections of men cut off on the stock market as a result of envy and neo-liberalist consumerism, and I explain it aloud whenever I can. That was clear and cruel. But I didn't know that at home we would be in a state of lockdown, or that our weaknesses had a similar measure. Milonga of the “welfare” society? It's the same. That's not the answer. I'm not being a good son, nor my mother, I don't know if this makes sense. In addition, dear mother, I have to tell you that your question asks me many small questions and that all of them refer to the values of the things I do and have. Dear Amatxo: Help me.

The mirror of my beloved Amatxo wears me: now I dedicate myself to my reality as a favorite. Mom, I need time. I feel the pain of emptiness. I was hurt by those who made me see in the mirror. And I also feel like I have the eyes of the protagonist of Kubrick's Domestic Orange, because I can't take your question from above my eyes. I need time, mom.

Dear Amatxo, to end this way because I will limit my thinking, I want to tell you this: I know that you have appeared as a question because this pandemic situation bears the strong mirrors... I know that this situation has not caused me any more harm than putting the mirror in front of the noses, for the time being. However, this unfortunate virus that is at the base of the mirror has reminded me many times that we are weak, that we have little to say about what is happening, that our virtue is also in the magical use of the limited capacity that we have from the acceptance of the situation, and that it takes time to understand things... And to end, truly, that everyone has to update that explanation in relation to the sense of life is their own situation.

And despite all that, even knowing that this situation would give me thanks for being the support of this blessed mirror, I do not want to give it to you, because this situation causes immense misery, which irritates me greatly. I will therefore not give them to you.

Stay quiet dear Mom, even if I don't answer your question I'm building the way, and I know that, besides the doubts, while we keep the ability to see night by day in the mirror these txotx are worth it. Thank you, dear mother.