I really like the way children are in the world.

To begin with, because they live in the present. They are only fixed at the moment, to which their vague awareness of the passage of time leads. But in this way, we will simply learn the perfect truth, which we will so easily forget afterwards: that life can only live in an instant. And that time escapes us from our hands when we live only in the pain of the past or in the hope of the future.

Their playful relationship with life is also enviable. They work by playing, because through play they find the world, build contact with it, or internalize the learning inherent in the experience. We know that only a life that is made by playing awakens the passion for life or the ability to bring joy. But children are the only ones who, in their young age, have the naivety to live knowing that this is the case. Knowing that living, knowing our reality is nothing but creating and transforming. And isn't this playing?

Then there's a childrens' own freshness. That freedom and spontaneity to be authentic. Far from cultural and arbitrary conventions, the objective of life and the single compass, of happiness, mark the satisfaction of their desires and needs. In this way, they achieve the gift of becoming good friends of themselves, the treasure to live true to their essence. Natural, almost involuntarily.

Yes, I like the situation of children in the world. But of course, when they're real kids. Or, to be more accurate, when we let it go. Our culture interprets maturity as the crackdown on childhood records, and we want them to resemble us as soon as possible, which is why vanishing adults become as ingenious and reasonable as we do. As if our maturity were an example to anyone. So gray, so rigid, so square.

The mystery of the magic of life in childhood is the way little ones look at life. Each encounter with the world is lived with the emotion and intensity of each of the early times, and in all of them, of course, they are surprised and fascinated. This ability to investigate reality always with new eyes makes life become something magical and poetic, because if you know how to look well, the nuance of everything around you is always different and new. It's never a static life, never boring.

And they live in the body. They live in the sacred temple of emotions and sensations, which is the origin and place of all our pleasures, women and owners. They interrelate through the body, and like everything in the realm of sensoriality is sensuality, delight and curiosity, erotism sprouts from one's own skin to the lives of boys and girls, in full lung, elegant, blatantly. They speak the language of the eyes, the laughs, the tongue, the caresses, the sounds, the surfaces and the movements, with precision and ownership. Until the baton of command falls into the hands of reason and the monopoly of verbal communication is imposed.

As if the spark of an incendiary gaze could be expressed in words, the earthquake that in the bowels provoke the small revolutions under the sheets, the tremor of a tingling that compromises all the coordinates of your existence, or the bittersweet taste that you found in the roads through which you walked blandly from the neck of the lover to the womb. The excitement of the first games with a new partner.