Expect nothing and appreciate everything.

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl. Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose. But no one can insist that his 100% perfect g

Tiempo de tormenta. Turno de decisiones. Clima de borrasca y viento. Luz difícil. Desde hace meses no dejo de recibir invitaciones a charlas, conversatorios y tertulias que gravitan alrededor del mismo tema: las razones para seguir apostando por el país, para quedarse y lidiar, para no irnos en desbandada. No es un tema fácil. Es complejo por inédito, por extraño a nuestro hábito, por subjetivo y personal. Es un tema espinoso por el espinoso país que hoy vivimos. Por el caos que nos rodea. Por la violencia de la marea que golpea nuestras certidumbres y ataduras. Ahora bien, ocurre que habitualmente uno no anda explicando las razones que tiene para no irse de su casa. Uno, simplemente, está, permanece, hace hogar en ella. Construye familia. Teje su día a día. Come allí, duerme en ella, la pasea descalzo, se demora en sus ventanas, erige su biblioteca, pone su música, domestica su almohada, conoce sus ruidos y caprichos. Es el lugar donde pugnas con tus grip

¡Hello everyone! First I want to thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm starting a company with a friend for the people that have food conditions and allergies (Celiacs, Diabetics, Lactose and casein intolerance, Autism, and others). She was diagnosed with Lactose intolerance few months ago, and with this little problem we got to the conclusion that in our country we don't have much products for the people that really need it. Now we know why everytime she drank milk, eat cake, butter or anything with lactose I felt sooo bad. We can't imagine how other people with worse conditions might feel by eating this stuff or the things that their body cannot tolerate.  We are from and currently living in Caracas, Venezuela. To the ones that don't know much about our country, we are living in crisis right know. Our monthly salary it's around 6.000 -7.000 bolivares that equals 10$ a month. So it's very hard for us to SURVIVE in this place. For us t

A Wishing Tree There is a parable about a poor man walking through the woods reflecting upon his many troubles. He stopped to rest against a tree, a magical tree that would instantly grant the wishes of anyone who came in contact with it.  He realized he was thirsty and wished for a drink. Instantly a cup of cool water was in his hand. Shocked, he looked at the water, he decided it was safe and drank it. He then realized he was hungry and wished he had something to eat. A meal appeared before him. “My wishes are being granted,” he thought in disbelief. “Well, then I wish for a beautiful home of my own,” he said out loud. The home appeared in the meadow before him.  A huge smile crossed his face as he wished for servants to take care of the house. When they appeared he realized he had somehow been blessed with an incredible power and he wished for a beautiful, loving, intelligent woman to share his good fortune. “Wait a minute, this

Cada fin de semana me llega ese síndrome incontenible de esperarte. Esperar a que aparezcas y me escribas porque me piensas, me extrañas o me quieres ver. ¿Y qué pasa si quisiera usar el último cartucho? Una vez más intentarlo, ponerme mi ya desgastado chaleco antibalas y salir por ti una vez más. ¿Y qué pasa si una vez más pierde el corazón?