A Grain of Sand


Much to the surprise of his family, who thought he would never take an interest in that kind of amusement, Little Tommy woke up early and went to the beach. And he got the toy shovel and bucket with him! It was the first time he spontaneously approached anything childlike. Digging holes in the sand, who would thought? Well, not just any holes, of course. Tommy spent the whole day working on an incredibly intricate design, perfectly round holes of different sizes, connected by straight grooves and organic ridges, all carefully spread through an area the size of a small house. Continue reading

Heaven on a Perfect Spring Day


She could feel it. The warm gentle kiss, the salty smell, the texture of millions of minuscule grains between her toes, the calming paced music. She was there, with him, feeling the sun slowly toasting her skin to a perfect tan, the sensation of cleansing that only a good sweat could provide. A cascade of emotions and memory transported her, as if instead of simply holding a rectangular piece of paper she had been magically displaced to a time when everything seemed simpler. Continue reading


I remember the first time I’ve gone to a circus. Only five or six, surrounded by all the sound and color and music of that magic land that achieved the magnificent impossibility that is being more surreal than the imagination of a little boy. I wasn’t up to it at first. It was probably a Sunday, and I wanted to stay home and have ice cream. We had already been at a park the day before and to a party that same week, all that social activity was interfering with my strict cartoon habits. My parents spent a good hour convincing me. They tried everything, explaining in detail how there would be trapeze artists, a bunch of clowns, magicians, an elephant doing tricks like a dog. They resorted to comparing everything with the colorfulness and noisiness of the cartoons I was starting to get up to date with. Nothing worked. Not even promising the most delicious ice cream I would ever have. Continue reading


Then someone left a baby at my doorstep. Just like that, like it was the eighteen hundreds. I woke up, ready to leave to work, holding my coffee in one hand and my keys in the other, and when I open the door, there it is. She. It’s was a baby girl. All cuddled up inside a little basket, wrapped in a light green blanket, sound asleep. No note, no sign of anyone around, a baby left at some stranger’s door in the middle of the night. Continue reading

Piano Concerto No. 2

Frank woke up with to the familiar mix of feelings he experienced the last few years. His feet were cold because his blanket wasn’t long enough to cover all his body and he had the habit of pushing it to his chin when asleep. His neck hurt from the odd angle his head remained, being a side sleeper. His hair scratched from lack of hygiene and his nose burned from his friend Bob’s stench. Also, the loud thumps from the garbage truck always got him startled, waking up to a racing heart. Continue reading


The house was old, as were they. It was incredible how long and well they lived. When mom died, we were sure dad would soon follow. They had that synchrony, that balance, as if one were the natural extension of the other. And to think they had that big weird fight long ago, when we were children. Two and a half weeks without talking, mom crying on the corners, dad avoiding her by any means. Continue reading


“What are you going to do with all that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Jeff was helping me with my father’s stuff, which was by itself no small feat. Being a hungry reader, a movie buff and music aficionado, and having lived in the same rented apartment in the last two decades, there was a lot of stuff. I’ve inherited most of his habits, only translated to a more modern world. All my books, movies, and albums are digital, much to my intellectualized father’s disdain. I should have charged him for all those times he pestered me about things like the feeling of paper on one’s finger, the pleasure of going back and forth to a particular scene you like, and the pure and full sound only a vinyl record could deliver. Continue reading