Sometimes, I desire. Desiring is painful, because does not belong to time. It has not begining, it has no end. It is just a mist than involves you. It makes you blind to the true light of the world. Desire is the curse of the whole humanity. Desire is the illusion of the mind...

La añoranza golpea fuerte a veces, y se te adhiere a la piel, como esta niebla que tuvimos el otro día, que comenzaba por chuparte las mejillas y acababa oxidando la calavera...

Hoy hemos tenido cielo azul al medio día, después de una mañana gris (pero al menos con algo de luz, pensé). Y aún así hay momentos en los que me siento sola, homesick, no sabía realmente lo que significaba esa palabra hasta que llegué aquí y de repente todas mis ideas tuvieron que amoldarse a las estructuras de un lenguaje completamente diferente.

Intento no pensar en ello y hacer muchas cosas, y eso funciona. Cuando una se siente homesick lo mejor es rodearse de gente en el pub y charlar, como he hecho esta noche. Al final siempre te llevas una sorpresa agradable. La gente es tan diferente por dentro a como aparenta ser por fuera... una cruda realidad pero también una bendita verdad, si queréis saber mi opinión.


Soy una chica con zapatos nuevos, y tengo rozaduras en mis tobillos... heridas sangrantes que laten dolorosamente, por mucho que disfrute andando el camino de baldosas amarillas.

Today, while I was studing kanji, different ideas flew around my head, (and none of them involved this Chinese symbols, I am afraid).

Today in Edinburgh we have had mist, that is, a complete night, no sun, no light, just darkness and misterious shadows. It could seem depressing, bust if you are Edgar Allan Poe you can be imaging some horror story about the darkest sides of human's soul... (no, a sunny day cant get you in the right mood for scary tales).

For me, it has been pretty mix up. On the one hand, I feel excited about a new idea I have had, maybe writing, because I am a writer (I put one word after the other, as you can see) and I am supposed to do so: writing, writing, writing!

On the other hand the mist has made me feel a bit sad and lonely and I have been tempeted of doing a big one-self tragedie, but no worries, now I realised I prefer writing fiction.

And talking with my loved ones (some of them, about others I have not heard much these days) always give me strenght. I think I have to be strong to make them happy, to share my life with them, to make themselves proud...

Ahh, misty days are like a misterious and humid book hidden in a dark lonely library... You always get surprises in one way or another...

I swear, I always intend going to bed early, as the responsible young woman I am, but every time providence send me a distraction (or directly  catastrophe, as I will show you know).

It happened that I was tidying my room just before jumping into bed when a unexpected guest entered into my room runing as faster as hell. And I would have welcomed she (or he, I do not really now yet) but for the fact she/he was kind of... special. Eight legs. Long legs. A very huge body. An enormous spider. And when I say that I am not exaggerating. (Writers never exaggerates everybody nows that for sure).

I remained stuck in the flor, trembling, as my... unexpected guest hid under the bed.

When the... unexpected vision of her/his brown body disappeared into the shadows, I could at last breathe and move. I did not know what to do. I am a pacifist, so I consider the idea of just convincing her/him to leave, just using speaking, non-offesive methods. I do not like killing, even when we are talking about insects, for example, who are commonly mascred between human beings, who considere them generally disgusting. Insects are not disgusting for me, but are scary, I do not why, probably because some old information written in my genoma long, long time ago, when the people in the wild had to be really careful with this little (and often poisonous) companions...

The thing is, I was really scared but something was clear: I could not sleep knowing that this huge... being was sleeping (or not, that was what really frightened me) under my bed. But I did not have the strenght to face her/him. So in the end I decided to call V., who is a girl and also one of the Resident Assistant in the place where I live. She was really nice, understanding and quick. She flew to my room in a couple of minutes. However, in that small amount of time my... unexpected guest run another little marathon around the room, which make me feel ill while I consider the idea of climbing over the table... Just for avoiding a possible attack of this being that seemed more scared than me, yes, but you never know, specially when one is under pressure...

But I would tell in my defense, for those who think that I am just a coward, that V. told me it was the biggest spider she has never seen in Edinburgh. And I thought it was a pity. There are a lot of people doing Biology in this residence. Having gone to visit one of them, my unexpected guest would have been much more well treated... but me, a poor artist, a sensible creature of letters and lover of the invisible things... the fear made me blind to all the possible enchants of this poor spider (I am sure she/he should have them).

In the end, the unexpected guest tried to run his/her third marathon but she/he found herself/himself under a shoe in the most violently way. Inmediatly she/he suffered another hit and become, literally, part of the fitted carpet's design.

It is a cruel destiny, I know. And for those who believe in karma or reincarnation... well, I think I would better not think about that.

As my mother told me:

-The spider should have been more scared as you... Just imagine you were the spider!

No, I would not like to.

Who knows. Maybe she/he was so big because she/he was a mutant spider. Considering that true, a biting of this spider would made me have extraordinary powers, as, for example, Spiderman...





Oh, Gods.

All in this mottie, misty clime,
I backward mus'd on wasted time,
How I had spent my youthfu' prime,
An' done nae-thing,
But stringing blethers uo in rhyme
For fools to sign.

I cannot be more agreed with my dear Mr. Burns. Specially, because I have spent an hour trying to understand this scottish jumble for an hour without succes (just a few words, ocasionally sentences, and by the time I could understand the whole thing I was so tired and frustrated that I did not fancy poetry or methaporicals meanings and stuff like that).

So, I have decided that maybe after a year being in Scotland I may begin to feel the songs of her most loved and rebelleous son, but today I just leave the books in their place (the shelves) and I will go outside.

Today we have sun!

That is most beautiful than all the scottish poems. No words can describe the happiness I feel. No rhymes. No Burns.

I dreamt that am evil spirit, a creature beyond darkness and sorrow, came into my home. It was hidden in a friendly face.  Playing the tricks of confidence, it got access to my house. And when I realized, it was inside. I was inside. My family too. And I cannot make it leave.

I tried everything. The fear soffocated my heart. Fear from something that has no name. The fear of the hunter that becomes the prey . Fear born from the instincts of Nature.

Suddenly, the creature tried to hurt her, the other one who has been in the same obscure place that I was once. I remember myself jumping directly in the little table at the dining room, shouting, don't touch her, don't you dare. It was not me, so it was not fear. And I claimed then the sacred words, the secret misteries which are only used in such occassions. And I made it go away. I am not sure how or by what means, what I did it.

There just one thing more strong thant fear...

and I am not going to tell you what it is, but believe me, everyone knows it. Or, at least, everyone knew it once...

Today, the Muse has appeared in front of me. So suddenly that my head has begun rolling. The beatings of my hear were like and earthquake.

If she was beauty or no I cannot tell. She held a enormous umbrella (this is the problem with the Scottish weather) I can hardly distinct the feautures of her face. Anyway, I am not Burns. That is why I do not think about sleeping with her. Instead, I will ask her to stay with me. Even if the weather is no so wonderful as in the meadows of the Olimpus... I really want her with me for a long, long time.

-CHAPTER 1- (i)


The first time I fell in love I was fourteen. It happened suddenly and without any aparent reason. One day this person was just a classmate, and the next day became the most important event in my day. In fact, I remember the very exact moment. It was break-time and I was walking around the school with other classmates, girls, I guess. I think so because it has been always easier for me to have relationships with girls. Boys seem to me so... Well, it is the sexual impulse, I suppose, so strong, that I have never known how to manage it. But as I was saying, I just was walking around when I saw him, wearing that red jumper. I just tought the red color, so bright, so intense, looked very nice on him. And the next second, there it was. The shoot, my wound. No explanations, just pain and surprise.

It took me a long time to discover I was in love. At first, the pain was so strange, so impredictable for a young one who knows nothing of the real world, that I did not know even where was the wound. Then, I felt a mix o feelings. I was glad because I was in love (love! that wonderful feeling the literature is always prasing!). On the other hand it was complicated. It was complicated because I wanted something that I did not how to ask for.

This boy, the first boy I wanted, looked like a girl. And he also seemed kind of sensitive (just seemed, but I would know that later). I like this kind of persons. People who is different from the others. People who seem to have a kind of interesting world inside of them. I am a traveller, I cannot avoid it.

-PROLOGUE-

I have never considered myself as a person who falls in love very easily. In fact, I do not know what is love, properly speaking. Maybe it is true that I have fallen in love. But for me there were neither flowers nor butterflies. Not a never-ending Spring. To love for me is like a wound, 'a shoot', in the words of one of my favourites Japanese writers. Everything is right, calm, just the life and its usual obstacles and suddenly... You find yourself bleeding, and you know there is no use to ask 'why' (as if there were anyone able to answer, anyway). The more time you employ in thinking this question the most your wound is bleeding. It drenchs your body and soul with blood and the sadest true: uncertainty.


I want to talk about love. What is love? For me, to love someone is to desire physicall contact. I cannot avoid it. Communication between souls is beautiful, but I call that friendship. However, when I am in love there is nothing that I desire more than the touch of other skin. My body is young and my mind has just began to discover the world. My fingers want to play with something else than the keys of my old piano. My body desires intensenly what society considers inapropiate to show: private contact.

I know desire fades, as time rubs out our memories. Slowly. Inevitably.

Life also has an end. And is not that what makes it worthy to try?

One month ago, I had just arrived to Scotland. I remember the first day, when I visited Edinburgh. It was completely dark (it was more than 9pm, in fact) and the shapes of the ancient buildings appear pretty scary to me. In addition, most of the people in the street (young adults) went one way to another screaming and completely drunk. However, the enchant, the mistery and the magic of this city full of secrets haunted me even then.

That nigh I did not sleep too much, because I was very frighten. I could not stop thinking that I had to spend a whole year on my own, and I just wanted to fly in my mother's arms... Paradoxically, I have always loved travell and so on, but suddenly, the perspective of growing alone scared me. All human beings are afraid of change, I have to say, and I cannot be different in that way. Nevertheless, I am here and not in my mother's lap, what means that even if I fear the change I still want it. Fear sprouts in my stomach, but the desire to change sprouts from my own spirit, this deep part of myself which are above everything, maybe even the ordinary life...

Anyway, I want to do a balance of this first month. I am still getting used to life in this country, the different people, different food and different university. And I can state that, first of all, Edinburgh is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. (So, what are you waiting for? Come and visit me!) Secondly, my home-university has nothing to do with the University of Edinburgh... Having this last one almost 500 years of experience in its field. In addition, I am convinced that UoE is so good because it has always opened to foreign students in a way that no university in UK has been, so it has been improved by hundreds of different people from all over the world who have ended considering Edinburgh as their own city. Not mentioning that UoE has never depended on the church or the Royal Family, which has always contributed to its free-thinking and liberty in academic researches. But enough of praises to the UoE, because I have still to see how is going to be my end of semester here...

Thirdly, I am doing here things that I have never though about doing, as, for example, tai-chi. Others include meeting new people all the time without feeling shy, speaking Japanese with real Japanese people, having dinner at 5pm every day, doing the laundry myself (yes, I feel like a new person after that one), reading more than a classic novel per week (most of them writting in the Scottish-way) or feedin squirrels.

So yes, in the end I can say I am having a lot of fun. And that is particullarly true because I have never done so much interesting stuff almost every day as I am doing here. So I am happy, doing my best to get rid of my fears (which, by the way, seem to me much less important than a couple of months before) and trying to grow up and mature in all the possible forms.

May the kind faires of steep Arthur's Seat look after me... and give me the strength of climbing the top of the mountain.

Come to the city of mistery, the colorful metropoli placed on The Dessert of the Hills, guarded by the three titans in which glorious monuments were erected by the Ancients...

The colorful streets of Old Town, its laberynthic-like closes where the souls of the ones who passed away still flicker in the shadows, and magnificent Renassaince palaces try to dark (without succes) the proud appearance of Edinburgh Castle...

And New Town, the British white houses whit just a brushstroke of colour in their doors, its spacious squares, serious parks and former banks now turned into exlusive coffes where one can take an Afternoon Teat sitted near to some members of the Royal Family...

Come, and see the mistery of the enormous bridge without its river, the Other Ciry hidden underground, the dark monument to the cursed writer and maybe even the vague shadows of the shíd, those strange and dangerous creatures who are said to celebrate their rituals in the sullen meadows of Arthur's seat...

Three nights without a proper sleep is more than I can endure. So, or my ears become hard stones at night or the Godess and Gods of war who life up on the Heavens send a painful ray over those who dare to disturbe my rest...

Today I have met B. She is, a way, my partner. She is also from the same place, same home-univeristy... we share the same destiny, although life is treating us very diferently.

I have never spent time with her so much time. When you just meet a person from your class, for example, you just get a poor impresion of she or he. But still you are able to categorize them, to give them special qualities and a character. For example, here I am. I have 'known' B. for two years and I think she is a indulgent, friendly girl, the kind of girls always smiling and doing what their friends do not to bother them, not to be different.

However, after having spending a whole evening with her, I think in a complete different way. She is an only-girl who use to did ballet and skater and have just male-friends. Now, she have given up ballet and skater because her knees al literally destroyed (is so sad when a passion becomes so intense that devours you in the end). She does yoga now and tries to avoid counting calouries all the time and become crazy about her weight (what she still does, anyway). And just because her ballet teacher told her when she was twelve that the pain of watching one-self getting fat it is much worse than a pain in your stomach when you are hungry.

And also she has a strong character, givin her criteria all the time without feeling worried about that, I mean, she is not indulgent at all! She has told me that I smile like her aunt. I did not how to reply such an assertion. Then she has replied she loved her auntie very much... Yes, wathever.

Nevertheless, I like her. I like the way she smiles, I like her eyes of two different colours, and I like when I am running everywhere, stressed and feeling overhelmed and suddenly she appears (I do not why, I always meet her in those moments) and is nice with me, and she offers me to share a coup of coffie or an aubergine.

I have a mate in my tai-chi class who is doing his PhD in the University of Edinburgh. He is a foreign student as me, and have told me that the only way to get fluent in English (enough fluent as to write Essays in a university level) is trying to think indeed in English.

Not translation. Use punctuation: commas, doc and so on. Forget about long and complicated phrases, the simplest the better in English. (This last is going to be a hard one, as you have seen, in Spanish I love to do such a long, complicated, full of adjectives phrases... However, do not believe me to be pedantic; as I am just following Herodotus style, that is all. (If you have ever translated Herodotus from ancient Greek into Spanish, you can understan why I am saying this).

Anyway, I want to try writing in English, and having this wonderful space, I am not going to open another. I know is going to be hard, I know some of you would not like it (basically because is more difficult to understand). But, honestly. I am no Shakespeare (yet) just a girl studing in Edinburgh, so my English is still plane, simple, with reduced vocabulary and most of the times follows the Spanish structure.

And if still you think I mad, I will tell you a thing: It could have been worse. I would have wanted to practise my Japanese writting...