Changes are difficult, and that's why we often resist them. Because even when something doesn't thrill us, we think that what will replace it will please us even less. Sometimes we apply the "known crazy" beyond people and leave the "wise to be known" for others. We don't want to know anything about it because we don't want to change anything. This happens a lot with urban changes, and since this country has been historically destroyed by making a mess of the landscape, both on the coast and inland, many of us tend to view proposed changes with suspicion. And if we are more or less fair people, we recognize the successes, which, apart from aesthetics, also have to do with how they personally affect us in our daily lives. Because, ultimately, and despite tourism, a city must be designed for its citizens to live in.

You go out onto the street and see the city full of banners welcoming the Pope with the symbol of the Generalitat of Catalonia and the City Council of Barcelona. They spread like a dystopia. Welcome Leo XIV. Some official buildings have also hung posters and all we're missing are the tricorn hats of the Guardia Civil guarding them. They are no longer needed. A progressive pope is like a pacifist soldier. Buying into these definitions is to resign oneself to war and regression. The institution that the Pope represents is, among other things, anachronistic, hierarchical, and sexist. Which, admittedly, can be said of many other institutions. The monarchy, not to mention. And everything is maintained and we pay homage to everything. Lest we live without it. Coincidentally, the Spanish monarchy and the Pope have in common that their representatives, good men, are heads of state. And the citizens, solicitous, kiss their feet. Of course, with freedom. That the dystopia, if you look at it from afar, is only aesthetic. And it seems to you that you can still choose. But we must take into account the permanent plea, asking for permission from the popes and the Pope, that events in Catalonia be held in Catalan. Although events like these, to maintain the distinction they deserve, should be held exclusively in Latin. If we accept the habit that makes the monk, let it be from head to toe. The feet that are kissed. 

The season of goodbyes has begun. People say goodbye or are said goodbye to. Stages end because nothing lasts forever. We are creatures of habit, but some people need to break routines more often than others. There are also those who wait for others to break them. It cannot be said to be better or worse. Saying goodbye voluntarily is the result of making decisions,but goodbyes, even if you have thought them over, are not easy. Nor is it easy to digest being told goodbye. It is a time for tears, for gratitude, and for disappointments. It is the season of cherries and bitterness. But beyond the most notable goodbyes, and taking advantage of the fact that the summer season is approaching, although, climatologically speaking, we have already fully entered it, it would be wonderful to be able to say goodbye to the perpetual burdens with which current events constantly assault us. To free ourselves from endemic weights that only serve to sow despair in a world that could be fuller of enthusiasm. To optimize this time of pause and change to clear the air.  

We accept, some with more resignation than others, that money is an inevitable part of our lives. And from what we know of our ancestors, before money existed, greed already existed. How much money do we need to live? How much money do we need to accumulate in life? How much money do we think we deserve to have? Why do we think we deserve anything?

A Japanese food company has announced that it is removing the color from the packaging of its products due to a shortage of the material used for ink in But because they say that a picture is worth a thousand words, it is very suggestive where black and white can lead us. Because this combination can be either very elegant or very mothballed, with that included smell of this chemical product that in the colorful world is already practically out of use. So let's forget the elegance of black and white and focus on that black and white that smells of a dingy past that refuses to leave. A good example is Florentino's press conference and the fact of addressing a journalist as "little girl

The Barcelona City Council has decided to grant the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium free of charge to Pope Leo XIV so that he can hold his major event in the city. PSC, PP, and Junts voted in favor. Comuns and ERC voted against. The arguments for offering this municipal space for free are that the Pope's visit generates “a maximum public and general interest”. I'm not saying no, but Rosalía does too, and it also touches on religious themes, and as far as I know...

There are people who buy a book for Sant Jordi to give to someone who never reads any books, which is like me being given a ticket to go see Formula 1. There are people who lament that there are people who buy books for Sant Jordi who then don't read them. But how many of us don't have books from previous years piling up that we haven't opened yet? There are people who want the celebration to be perfect. But perfection is a theoretical concept.

In recent days it has become fashionable to criticize Sant Jordi, which, on the other hand, is criticizable like any other day of the year. The thing is that, traditionally, it is one of the most anticipated days for Catalans, who curiously and in general, are in a good mood and go out into the streets to mingle among roses and books, a combination that seems to me much more fitting than pineapple on pizza. But we cannot interfere with each person's palate, even though there are few things as disgusting to eat at the same time as pineapple and pizza. But we cannot interfere. The fact is that, with the number of things that don't work, wanting to criticize Sant Jordi's day is a desire to be seen, a fact that, on the other hand, I understand perfectly, because in some way one has to stand out among so many people who occupy space, among so many writers, among so many criticizing Sant Jordi's day is a desire to be seen, a fact that, on the other hand, I understand perfectly, because in some way one has to stand out among so many people who occupy space, among so many writers, among so many youtubers, influencers or podcasters. And listen, let everyone say what they think because everyone also opines what they feel like. Now we will not open the debate about the excess of both. And neither Sant Jordi's day, nor the world of books, much less the saints, are perfect, but I can think of a long list of things that need to be eliminated before this celebration. By the way, I remember that it is a working day, and that no one is obliged to celebrate it. Neither as a citizen, nor as a writer, nor as a florist. 

After the Easter cake, there's still a trace of chocolate in the bakeries. In supermarkets, if you look closely, you can find an egg among the laundry detergents. Or a rabbit near the drinks. There's never too much chocolate. When you meet someone who doesn't like it, you're suspicious. You think it's not normal to miss out on one of life's great pleasures. Even if you later remember that pleasures are personal and non-transferable. Nevertheless, you're suspicious. 

There are things that don't change. Like the change of time. It doesn't matter that the seasons are distorted by climate change and that we're on the time of Nazi Germany because Franco had to align himself with the prevailing fascism. Let's see who's brave enough to change it. And even less so now that fascism is trending again and there's so much nostalgia for the eagle that if you're very distracted by the world and see all those people with expired flags, you might think they're an environmental group defending an endangered animal. Of course, in Spain, the eagle on the Francoist coat of arms has never fallen into disuse. And if you confuse an environmental group with a fascist one, it means you're more lost in aesthetics than Lamine Yamal's hairstyle. But we were talking about the time. About change. About things that don't change. Like the collateral damage of a war. As if the main damage, which also doesn't change, wasn't enough. Bombs that destroy. Bombs that kill. Bombs to make more bombs. Bombs to send more bombs. Although it's logical that if your goal is to cause harm and the only human life that matters to you is your own, the more harm you do, the better. The extent of harm for an evil person is infinite. The more people suffer to survive, the better. And with this bunch of psychopaths who are constantly measuring their trumpets to see who has the longest, suffering seems assured. For everyone. Because there are things that don't change. Like resolving conflicts by creating new and worse ones. It also doesn't change that you are rewarded for peace after generating a war. Perhaps the newest thing is that since you're not rewarded by those you expected, you're rewarded by some who believe that football promotes peace. I won't be the one to question that. Because anyone can face a hooligan, a synonym for pacifist. I'm just saying that good taste certainly isn't promoted. And since so many people follow them, they could at least have houses that didn't look like a funeral home. Inside and out.

It's been months of red carpets. An excess of catwalks and an excess of discomfort. Not only the discomfort generated by some of the award winners' speeches, but also by the outfits women choose, which continue to present images unheard of in the 21st century. But if we're being strict, in the 21st century, the world is also governed by ultra-violent narcissists who are leaving a landscape that hasn't changed in centuries. And since little more can be said about the brutality of a system that allows the bombing of whatever a few wretches fancy, and since we seem to have to accept violence as a necessary evil in this rotten world of self-interest, let's turn the tables and look at what is apparently permanent, and what many people consider a free choice. And they're right. Because women's formal attire is the perfect symbol to explain where we still are. And the damage it does isn't comparable to war, but it still leaves many dead. It's the imprisonment of the body. Of the standards of beauty. Of scandal disguised as glamour.

News in 3Cat. A woman applies for a job at the Som Energia cooperative. She's pregnant and doesn't have high hopes, but she applies anyway. Her starting point is realistic. Who would hire a pregnant woman? The unusual thing is that, after the interview, she's told she's been chosen from among the 13 candidates. The job is hers, despite being pregnant. Everyone's happy. Overjoyed. Until the administration gets involved.

With another March 8th approaching, feminism is facing a disastrous situation. The movement is suffering setbacks worldwide, and according to the results of a survey published in this newspaper, 60% of men in Spain believe they are being discriminated against simply for being men. Data like this neither surprises us nor is it foreign to our society. Often, in the very articles I write each week, there are men who automatically feel... offended Just for using a feminine adjective. Even if the adjective could include me, a woman, it doesn't matter if we're talking about the beacon scam or living past 100. These are individuals, almost always anonymous, who cling to the tradition of thinking only of themselves. Nor to the tradition that women can be discriminated against. But woe betide them if a generic term doesn't make them feel included! (They are there, but they want to maintain their status. Besides, they shouldn't be everywhere, either.) These men are terrified of losing what they believe is their birthright. But these men's feelings are also tied to egocentrism and a deliberate desire to harm. Because, seeing the state of the world, they show not even the slightest empathy for verifiable facts and for a fundamental reason: demanding human rights is exhausting. We have other things to do in life. But we want a fairer life for everyone. And we want to use adjectives however we please.

On March 14, 2018, the official car in which Rio de Janeiro city councilwoman Marielle Franco was traveling with her press secretary, Fernanda Chaves, and driver Anderson Gomes was intercepted in the city center by another vehicle, which opened fire on the councilwoman's car. Marielle, 38, and Anderson, 39, were killed in the shooting. Fernanda miraculously survived.

The Spanish flag in Madrid's Plaza de Colón is not withstanding the elements. Oh dear. The year hasn't even started two months ago and it's already been torn three times. The latest incident occurred this week, in an image that must be added to the collection of anecdotes about Spanish flags taking damage. There are quite a few. Even involving paratroopers and lampposts. The repertoire is extensive. It can't be said that Spain skimps on resources in this regard. On the contrary. The flag in Madrid's Plaza de Colón is also worth a lot of money. It's enormous, 294 square meters, and weighs 35 kilos, which is overweight for a flag. But when you have an attack ofexhibitionism Patriotism is far better than a flag stuck on a stick. Furthermore, the Spanish state needs to assert itself, not because it is recognized as a state, but simply to be recognized. But speaking of recognition, exhibitionism flag It's not exclusive to Madrid or Spain. Many nations practice it. And even unrecognized nations, which might make a bit more sense if one weren't allergic to flags, as is the case with those who call themselves "citizens of the world." Now, when there's a battle between gusts of wind like the ones we've been experiencing lately, flags lose in the first round. And because they're so symbolic, they immediately project the image of a broken country. This time, we Catalans have nothing to do with it. What a shame. The loss of prominence we've suffered in such a short time is comparable to a flag torn by the wind. However, we may be partly to blame. It's ironic that the new storm is called PeterThat would never have occurred to me. But speaking of symbolism, Pedro breaks up Spain. And speaking of jokes, this one's bad, I know.

Catalonia is experiencing strange days that are dragging on longer than expected, if such a thing as strange days even has a time limit. It feels like we're living in a disaster movie, with everything unfolding in a chain reaction, like those lives that can't seem to get back on their feet. All we needed was the wind. It arrived with a warning, though, complete with an alarm, and when you hear it in the street amidst all the other alarms, it feels like a contemporary concert. It's come to assert itself amidst so much inclement weather, as if we'd been missing it. The wind, a bothersome phenomenon when it's just a breeze. The wind, which brings no answers and bursts forth with the force of someone who has no arguments. This aggressive wind, like an authoritarian leader around the world. The wind, which doesn't love trees. The noise of the wind, which keeps us awake and seeps into our brains as if a ghost wanted to speak to us. No, not that wind now. We're all too tired. But we're pinning our hopes for calm on the anticyclone that's about to arrive, they say, and that will bring a weather respite. Because you can't please everyone, and too much rain is usually harmful. They say there will be days of sunshine in a row. Perhaps we should also set an alarm to help us get all the vitamin D we're lacking. Although it's also on sunny days that everything is laid bare and the disaster becomes clearer. Just in case someone is unaware that Catalonia has been paralyzed for years and that the wind is the last thing to enter through the door. This is what happens when you leave it open. They already told us that it's wise to be careful with the draftsIn any case, you don't need to be particularly esoteric to see that everything is a sign, not very subtly, warning us that we're at the limit of too many things and that it's time to start moving in the right direction. With the wind, we must wait for it to stop, but many other situations are within human control and can be resolved.

The US Department of Justice has released three million pages, 180,000 images, and 2,000 videos related to sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. All this material has been made public because the law requires it, but after the deadline and, according to the lawyer for the victims of this serial rapist, poorly. Because some of the victims' names have also been revealed. And yet they claim that the censorship in all this documentation is precisely to protect them. Judicial blunders are international. And so is sexism.

The chaos in Catalonia is unprecedented because it's currently colossal, but it was foreseeable long ago: we've been living with the commuter rail chaos for many years, directly or indirectly, and its users have been undervalued for many years, going viral despite themselves. That's why political rhetoric is so damaging. Because reality too often reveals priorities and interests. Despite the incessant rain and snow, everything eventually comes to light. The trains aren't running, but all these people who lose hours and patience on each journey, if they even manage to travel at all, are a large part of those who keep the country running every day. And the country is tired, angry, and disappointed. Because Catalonia, many days after a tragic accident, is, as they say, a house of cards. A place that hangs and unhangs, as we used to say at home. Say what you will.

A friend told me she was able to go to work today because she bought a high-speed train ticket yesterday and slept at my mother's house. Thank goodness. But she doesn't know how long she'll have to do the same. Because nobody says. What's certain is that it won't be worth it for her to work if she has to keep paying for high-speed train tickets for a journey she should be able to make with a regular train. train of the commuter rail. This is one example. But there are hundreds of similar and much more serious ones. Because the problem is that, long before the recent accidents, she, like so many other people who travel around the country on these commuter trains, had a history of accidents. trains Renfe's commuter rail service lives in a permanent state of uncertainty. And anguish. Because now the cup has overflowed, but users have been living with this situation for years, and no one offers them any solutions. Their jobs, their livelihoods, depend on their mobility. So do their hospital visits and any other visits they might want to make. All that's missing is permission for people to travel according to the purpose of their trip.

I must confess my deep envy of men's football fans. I feel it much less for women's football fans, because although it's generating more interest now, it doesn't occupy the same space. Let's not kid ourselves. I envy them because their entertainment, or their religion, I dare say, occupies many prominent spots in radio and television programming, and above all because, when it becomes news considered relevant, everything else is set aside and that topic is treated as if nothing else were happening in the world. If you're not interested in football, you can't believe the amount of time that can be spent discussing topics you wouldn't dedicate more than zero or a minute to. But what I envy is that in weeks like this one, full of terrible news for the world, or like the previous one, also filled with bad news, football fans are able to abstract themselves from this reality, prioritizing the fact that there's been a change of coach or a good result in a match. For those who are always overreacting, and I'm never sure if they understand what I write, I'll add that I know you might like football and be worried about the world political situation. But the football fans They have this refuge where everything that happens is important, even if its relevance is debatable. And it's not snobbishness that makes me uninterested in football. At another time in my life, I used it as a sedative. But it's like other things I've tried that haven't quite grabbed me, like mushroom hunting or spending the summer at the beach. However, I'm not reading books while everyone else is watching a football match. Or not always, in any case. It's possible that while I'm listening to the fans' shouts, I'm watching a bad TV series or talking about other trivial matters in the kitchen.