España © Susana Aliano Casales

Today the sun shines. The woman is seated on a bench in the plaza, under the shade of a large tree. She writes in
her notebook.

The Secret of the Red Umbrella

Chiche was a brown sheepdog that my grandfather gave my older brother for his birthday. When I was born, Chiche had already lived with us for a few years, so he was part of the family before me.

My Sheepdog, Chiche

His name is Pedro and he’s a boy, but he looks like a girl. Unlike his sister, Valeria, who looks like a boy. They’re the strangest kids at school.

Nyah Nyah

Sometimes, I don’t feel like going home. I run around a bush a hundred times, or I count all the trees along the avenue once again, or I simply lie down on the grass of the plaza, which is like an enormous green carpet all painted with flowers.

Going Home

My mother let me sit in the window seat, because the journey would be long and she knew I liked to look out at the landscape, counting sheep, trees, and clouds. The journey lasted six hours. Six hours of thoughts, six hours of anxieties but also six hours of excitement, because we were heading toward a new home, to a new life.

A Meeting of Words