In such audiovisual and stressful times, reading has become a singular and almost revolutionary act. It goes against the grain. Reading time is precious, requiring willpower and determination. "Do you have time to read? Gosh! How do you do it?" people ask me. I reply: "Don't you have time to read? Gosh! How do you do it?"

It's Monday and Matthew and Aidan, aged six and eight respectively, are at the Sant Pau pediatric day hospital. While receiving treatment, each one entertains himself as best he can: the former with a tablet and the latter with a mobile phone. Suddenly, Laura and Gisela, professional storytellers, burst into the room in their lab coats, tights, and colorful flip-flops, and their cart (a customized wheelchair) full of books, and ask the children if they'd like to hear a story. They both answer affirmatively. For Matthew, this is his first contact with the children. Tales that healFrom that moment on, the two little ones stop being just patients and become what they are: children who let themselves be carried away by the magic of a story, who are infected by the emotion with which the storytellers tell the adventures of the Pirate Malapata and Bunny Ralph, who laugh and interact with each other—when they previously didn't even know each other—while imagining, with the help of the narrators, that they are aboard a pirate ship.