PEDRO HOZ: Barcelona

All doors should be round. Soft, welcoming, as though they were the entrance to a new life. Every time we pass through a door, we are born again.

In cats’ eyes, I see the souls of those who died in peace. A delicate, transparent prison for those who accepted long ago that there is nothing to be changed, that everything is forever changing.

When she was little, while the grown-ups drank coffee and argued, she liked to lift the tablecloth and hide beneath the table. Couldn’t they see that this lower kingdom was far vaster than all their conversations?

It is always the mother who discovers what you are doing beneath the table. And it is through the mother that we know time passes. Time was conceived in her womb.

Not even in anachronism can you save yourself from yourself. There are shadows that betray you, that mark the sun’s position.

Fear is the spider that weaves our nights. Beside our dreams, the spider is harmless: a beneficent, weightless creature that protects us.

Perhaps you have seen this scene many times already. And one day you will see it again through someone else’s eyes.

The first person to say, “Everything has been invented,” made a great discovery. The question is: where are inventions? Do they come all at once, or little by little?

A watch belongs to another world. Why do we resist forgetting it? Why do we insist on wearing it? Perhaps it is the memory of a time when time passed more slowly, a time in which we could watch it passing, second by second, across our skin. Now time lies far from us. It is a blazing sun on the other side of the screen.

The horizontal rhythm of the cross is faith. You must hold on to it even if it takes you nowhere. The vertical rhythm of the cross is love.

Gabriel Ventura