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What’s great about the iPhone is that, if you wanna believe that dinosaurs breathed fire, there’s a religion for that. If you wanna believe that waving a chicken over your head can take away your sins, there’s a religion for that. If you wanna believe that sacred underwear can protect you from speeding bullets, there’s a religion for that. If you wanna believe that bread can turn into human flesh after you’ve swallowed it, there’s a religion for that. And if you wanna believe that each human being contains many alien spirits that were trapped in volcanoes by hydrogen bombs, there’s even a religion for that. Yep, there’s a religion for just about anything… only on the iPhone.





Sunday afternoon in my apartment. I watched television and carried out some household stuff while the sunlight entered through the shades, closing an excellent day, productive and full of accomplishment. I woke up early, had a good breakfast, and enjoyed a hot shower that felt nice over my sick body. Listened out loud to music only I could appreciate. I cooked lunch effortlessly, as Carla once said while watching me do it, and took a nap right after dessert. Washed the dishes while singing along those songs that took me back to times that weren’t better but where nice nevertheless. Had some mate while ironing clothes, the ones I washed after letting them sit on the ground for some months. Yes, it was the beginning of my taking back control of my life, and it felt so good! Before dinner I decided to go for a walk. Streets were quieter than usual, full of peace and elongated shadows announcing the nightfall. And I walked dozens, hundreds of steps. I walked by the cars, by the trees, over that bridge I had crossed every day for years. And I watched the stores, at least the few still open, and the people, at least the few still out. And I breathed the cold, fresh air falling over me from my beloved mountains. And then I stopped. I stopped on my feet at the end of a street, trying to decide whether to return home or to keep walking away, to finally have a third idea: to go visit someone. Then I thought… and kept thinking, until my soul became overwhelmed by a terrible truth. I couldn’t think of anyone I would want to see, or anyone that would like to see me without a reason other than seeing me. And that day I felt alone.

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One day, I hope, I’ll manage to make my dearest ones understand labels are useless.

I’m sick of hearing about how bad persons change into better ones as if it was some kind of modern miracle. I’m tired of witnessing “the good ones” and their arrogance, feeling they are more decent or respectable than the others, when the fact is they only know how to wear a nice disguise among “the non-illuminated” while keeping inside of them the same weaknesses than any other person.

Knowledge or conviction can not change the inner person, they only teach how to react in certain situations, what to do and what to avoid… the essence remains the same. Such a change is not real, just a convenient adjustment.

Nowadays I’m throwing away my mask; exposing the worst of me at the same time I wish it will unleash some authentic goodness from the bottom of my heart. Will this make me a better person? Not at all, but I certainly will be more authentically me.