The kid is born. The parents are very proud of Him. He'll learn to walk, to talk, and will be nailed to save mankind. And all He wanted was a Pokémon. There are no pine trees in Bethlehem. Why do people insist? I don't know yet if the kid is mine, but if it is, would you like to be the godfather?

A man eating a mountain. The two of us, our respectful friendship, and the ping-pong of delicious humour. At least this conversation makes me smile, tomorrow morning I'll be back to that zombie-like life that I have. We have. In the breaks of it, we imagine a bed-ridden Fidel controlling a mechanical clone in a giant screen.

This blog is a fake. It wasn't even I who created this name. We live in a world of styrofoam and cork buildings that imprison us. Let's be more than that. Let's desconstruct the world, smash it in tiny pieces, and rebuild it as we like. The world outside helps us, day after day. Thank you.