An English Journey

In the wake of the Manchester terror attack, British citizens stoically stand up for their peculiar national character in an attempt to try to lift their mood. They would go to any lengths to turn a deaf ear to terrorists; in other words, if terrorists expect Brits to panic, they must be joking. So ingrained a sense of fun and humour can only be found in the UK. And that is dead good for them, an effective and natural antidote to terrorist threat. Twitter is flooded with messages showing wry humour about #BritishThreatLevels hashtag. Just to put you in the picture, among the highlighted tweets with that hashtag you can find, for example: - A photo of quirky man holding a pint of beer and asking “You want some?”. - Another snapshot of a hedgehog typing in something on a computer keyboard with the message “Signing off an email with ‘Regards’ instead of 'Kind Regards' because the recipient has annoyed you”. - A text like this “Overtaking someone while walking and having t

A good artist is somehow like a great speaker. We can draw a comparison between the process of writing a compelling speech and that of creating a great piece of art; they are both perfect examples of daunting tasks . Why do artists take the centre stage with criticism? Artists and speakers usually face an uphill struggle to convey the message aspired to. That is because, in order to communicate effectively, it is not enough to have something to say. In fact, the message does not necessarily have to be clear as day . Sometimes, it is slightly obscure and that is perfectly suitable. However, if speeches and pieces of art are not charged with genuine emotion, they will not be worthwhile at all. Apart from emotion, some technicalities are required. Whereas a speaker must choose the words carefully and put them together using the appropriate register and tone for the occasion, an artist, say a painter for example, would go through colours, materials and techniques to bu

My dog Sucre is not a dab hand at chess, but he has the uncanny knack of soothing me when necessary. I wonder whether AI (Artificial Intelligence) would ever possess such a humanlike capacity. Last week I came across a series of articles on the future of AI. Among them, it was the one on Erica, a Japanese android created 23 years ago, which riveted my attention. Back in 1996, the classic man vs. machine plot hit the headlines when Deep Blue, an IBM computer specialised in playing chess beat the world chess champion Gary Kasparov. I clearly remember how exciting it was to see AI in action. I read with rapt attention all the articles that flooded the press in those days. However, I was disappointed about the unfair comments made by the majority of journalists. Instead of a breath of fresh air, Deep Blue was the spark for a spiral of overthinking that bordered on the absurd. A mounting ill-founded concern over the risks of AI that has remained alive up until now. But neither was D

Does the end justify the means? First and foremost, the mere fact of writing down these questions repels me. We live in a so-called developed world in which governments must uphold the principles of democracy. I would like to express my disapproval towards those countries that profit from information extracted by others under “enhanced” interrogation methods. Unquestionable as it is that not only our country but the rest of Europe is living under an undying terrorist threat, we cannot move the goalposts at our convenience. By doing that, we would jeopardise fundamental human rights and that would be legitimately punishable by international law. As democracy should oblige, it is not enough to condemn the violation of the rights promoted by treaties such as the Geneva Conventions or the UN Declaration of Human Rights, we ought to obey the rules to the letter and without exception. That is the definition of law, isn’t it? If a country uses military intelligence reports based on inf

Dear Reader, How's it going? It's been ages since I've heard from you. I have to confess that your e-mail left me flabbergasted. I still remember when I told you about Sucre: your eyes out on stalks and you saying "Over my dead body my wife would ever bring home a pet". Anyway, I'm glad you have finally eaten humble pie. Ha ha ha. The thing is that you are torn between a cat or a dog. This poses a genuine dilemma for you and your family. Don't get me wrong. First of all, owning a pet is a great idea but also takes a lot of time and effort. I'm sure that you would've already thought about it. What you may not know is that unlike cats, dogs do need to take loads of exercise. If you want to have a healthy dog, be ready to get up early in the morning and start your day with a bracing walk. The first word that a dog learns is "street". They love going out. And how! Of course, it doesn't matter whether it's raining or not, they

Agatha knew full well it wasn't going to be plain sailing. Since the very moment she made up her mind to leave her parents’ nest and headed for Spain, she had to come to terms with missing friends and family. On top of that, she hadn't been abroad by herself and wasn't sure how long it was going to take her to settle in. However, it was her long-held ambition, so she felt it was surely high time; in actual fact, she really had no other option. Being an outsider can be exciting but, at the same time, hair-raising. Agatha arrived in Barcelona three years ago. It was a week before her seventeenth birthday, which she wouldn't forget in ages.  When her mother gave her a ring and wished her happy birthday, Agatha couldn’t help but burst into tears; listless and a bit depressed, she told mum that, from the word go she was like a fish out of water. Finding a part-time job was a priority. Agatha's parents earned very little and she had to make both ends meet. At the e

The advent of beauty contests (or their American counterpart, beauty pageants) goes back to 1839, when Georgiana Seymour was crowned the “Queen of Beauty” at the Eglinton Tournament, which took place in the UK. Nevertheless, it was not until the 1880s that they became incredibly popular. These contests soon became ingrained as a tradition and, despite the efforts of the feminist movement, the craze for idealizing a certain type of feminine figure (euphemistically called a ‘beauty canon’) remained on the rise until well into the twenty-first century. The question is whether this kind of parades does any favours for contestants in particular, and for women in general. To begin with, we must consider who are behind these contests. Apparently, these events are patronised by ridiculously rich businessmen. They will go to great lengths to keep them going, especially seeing how well beauty contests stand the test of time and, surprisingly, because it brings about the virtual collapse of

That morning I had an accident. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't the kind of accident that is usually followed by a thorough investigation. It was a childish and minor one. I wetted myself. It wasn't out of a need to go to the bathroom but unexpectedly; out of the blue. I found myself red-faced. I could admit the situation was a little funny. I thought there was something odd going on. The fact is that just before the accident, I was completely sure of having been in front of the toilet a few minutes before, ready to shoot, except that I probably wasn't. My bewilderment didn't diminish when I had the second accident in a row. I spilled my coffee. How on earth could an already drunk coffee be spilled? The frontpage of The Guardian, now a hotchpotch of ink smudges and black liquid, was featuring a story about the Iraq war. I was reading it with rapt attention; supposedly, my mug was already in the kitchen sink when coffee was spilled. I went to the bathroom and ar

Robert's fondness for his wife was well known. He would have given his life for Joana if only she had asked him to do so. Unfortunately though, he could not help but witness the lingering and inevitable death of his beloved partner. The fate of their uphill battle against Joana's terminal cancer was ten to one. Since the doctor delivered them so bad a piece of news, they learned to take it one day at a time. Robert adopted a positive attitude towards the diagnostic, nothing was carved in stone yet. He resorted to faith; a new-found religious faith that would give him hope. A glimmer of hope that, surprisingly, he still holds ten years after she finally was at peace and her suffering was over. Thanks to faith, her absence is not quite absolute. Robert's approach to God has made up for the loss of his wife. More by accident than design, he became a fervent follower. During such a battle, seeing how Joana was undergoing endless chemotherapy sessions, he slowly discovere

It is not rocket science that the pursuit of happiness is virtually universal. From a tribe of Amazonian Indians to the dwellers of a megacity like Tokyo, each individual has his own idea of what happiness looks like. Sometimes though, we are on the wrong path and do not realise that making subtle changes in our daily life, could considerably improve our chances for success. Biologically, the release of endorphins, triggered by various human activities, is responsible for euphoric sensations and, moreover, has a protective effect against pain. But, however hard you try to invoke the power of endorphins, it would be ineffective unless you knew what makes you happy. It is little wonder that trial and error is the most effective method to find out about your source of happiness. Every individual evolves throughout his life and, consequently, what works today may fall by the wayside tomorrow. It seems to be quite probable that, in this pursuit, you are prone to face a neverending s

Depression affects a surprising number of people. Although everyone can feel very sad and anxious on occasion, some people are more prone to undergo deep depressions during their lives than others. This medical condition and its treatment have been historically studied by numerous scientists, doctors and researchers. But as yet, knowing whether we are suffering from depression or not remains a tricky question. As a layman on this subject, I would not go so far as to say that, more often than not, people misuse the term. Conversely, I do think that only sometimes this term is employed to describe just a rough patch. A niggling worry could render us sleepless for a few days. Does it mean that we are growing depressed? Not necessarily. Some psychologists' therapies go too far and are out of kilter with the patient's problems. Why are we expected to be always happy? Fortunately, the vast majority of therapists are knowledgeable and well-prepared to treat depression in all i

I still remember with heartfelt emotion the enticing prospect of a summer's fortnight at my grandparents' cottage. They would boast about what they had achieved, not without a great deal of hard work though. Had it not been for their financial ingenuity in hard times, my mother, aunts and uncles would have not been who they are. Mum is the eldest of six children and although she was widowed at the early age of 42, she already had five children. My grandfather, Fermin, born on July 7th, 1919, fought in the Spanish Civil War on the Republican side. Fortunately, he survived it and became a forest guard on January 26th, 1946. He devoted his life to preserve the mounts of Castellon province, on the eastern coast of Spain. He would worship nature during the rest of his life, only coming into his own when trees and plants were literally surrounding him. When my father died, we were living in a small suburb of Tarragona. As we did not have family there, my mother took us to Cas

Learning how to be guided by natural instincts could help us thrive in life. Strangely enough, very few people are used to relying on intuition. By all accounts, rationality is synonymous with lacking faith in our sixth sense. Then, if both approaches, rational and instinctive, seem to be at odds, how can we marry them? If we could go back to our origins, when the first life on earth struggled to survive, we would, in all likelihood, see how the inborn intuitive power of living creatures came into its own. Yet we cannot help but believe that it should have gone that way. Besides ignoring the past, we have been taught to believe that human reason equals sanity. Can we make conscious decisions by following our gut instincts? Consciousness and normality is hardly ever used when talking about intuition. However, we use it all the time. Every day, we make life-and-death decisions unconsciously. For example, we stop at a red light or let the soup cool. But, most commonly, we make t

The self-portrait is not a latest craze. Art history, ancient and modern, gives comprehensive accounts of this genre as a common means of expression among artists. The question is what is the motivation, if any, for an artist to depict himself. As an aficionado of photography, I have always been amazed at the power of images. Perhaps in pursuit of an aesthetic value, or maybe out of the need of expressing feelings; no wonder I ended up taking pictures of myself. But I hardly ever shared them with friends or family. I feel like telling something with my photography and that may prevent my output from being much of a muchness. I would not have published my work unless I had been sure that each picture's message came across as intended. I know full well that my work is not suitable for anyone, though. I am quite comfortable with detractors too. Why did I take the picture above? Within those four edges I found a way to represent a question mark. But, deep inside I really wa

A reaction is what you do, say or think as a result of something that has happened. Every time we react to an event or situation, not only our personality is reflected but also our perception of the outer world. In other words, we show who we are by means of our behaviour. But, is it that simple? Can we judge others by their reactions? The short answer would be no. Imagine that you are a wannabe writer and you show your latest unfinished short story to a good friend who is an avid reader. You might expect a truly informed opinion or a thorough critique but, maybe it just so happens that your friend is not in the mood because of a recent read on child abuse. That read has just provoked so dramatic an impact on him that your friend's first reaction to the draft is not just negative, but almost violent: "This is bullshit". Must you rethink your entire writing career? No, you must not. The same story would have triggered an enthusiastic and positive response only if

Animated objects littered the deserted streets. Any living creature would have sensed the rarefield atmosphere that soured that night, but the city was lifeless of proper life. Humankind must accept its fate. A gloomy future, a hopeless existence, the dawn of things had arrived. An insomniac mattress awakened from its fated death. More than tired, exhausted is how it was feeling. Oppressed by countless sleepless nights trying to please the jaded couple, it could not help but escape. The scenery was beyond recognition. A teapot and a radio soon joined the mattress which was leading an improvised parade. The white noise delivered by the radio was felt by hundreds of objects as rhythmic beat. Dancing on the streets, making quirky and, at the same time, distinctive sounds, more and more of them stepped in. Beeping, clanking, clicking... a range of metallic dins filled the silence with music. A symphony under the baton of the mattress whose driving ambition to become a conductor

Life was transformed with the advent of smartphones. People from my age group, whose upbringing was highly influenced by the availability of the first personal computers, regard this invention as a metamorphosis of those cumbersome machines that used to entertain us every now and then. However, the social transformation that has taken place in the last decade is beyond our wildest dreams. We used to have play dates; we would spend a whole evening at the park playing soccer. The weekend was synonymous with going out and enjoying fresh air. Family gatherings and friends hanging out were a common sight. Married couples watched a film on TV to unwind from a stressed week at work. Now, it is highly improbable that we would stumble upon a group of children without a smartphone, or that we might see a couple just talking in a cafeteria. More and more elderly people use them every day to keep in touch with younger family members. A smartphone is more than just a combination of a comput

What's your earliest childhood memory? And your most bitter-sweet one? Can you rekindle your great and joyful past events clearly? Maybe you can answer those questions easily, but that says little about your ability to recall facts and events as they really happened. Apparently, a single long-term memory did not even exist as an entity. Our mind is not a library where a pile of books rests waiting for being loaned at will. Each life event is broken into several pieces that are stored in different places of our brain, sometimes redundantly. When we try to recall a memory, a process of reconstruction takes place. It often happens that we find ourselves unable to conjure up a particular event. Probably, it would come later, unexpectedly. Then, if it is still relevant, we will make an unconscious effort to store it again, reinforcing the chances of a future successful retrieval. But memories are volatile, shifting and unstable. The process of reconstruction can add irrelevant

Crying emotional tears is a strange quirk of humankind. Sometime during the early development of the species, our ancestors had to contrive ways to express emotions in response to new forms of social interaction. However, social traits have been widely and deeply observed among other animal species and yet shedding emotional tears is considered uniquely human, making it so far impossible to reveal the mystery over why others animals do not show emotions using their lacrimal gland. Apparently, this unique feature could be one of the answers to my dearest question: what makes us human. We are used to witnessing impressive emotional displays involving the act of crying. Despite being generally attached to sadness or sorrow, our ability to weep tears goes beyond these bounds. Angry tears can fill someone's eyes when an upsetting situation is confronted. Similarly, bitter tears are suitable for disappointments. We even have invented the glamorous happy tears, especially reserved

However hard you try, nothing seems to work. This is a situation which may sound all too familiar to most of people. When we find ourselves on the horns of a dilemma, especially when there are too many clouds on the horizon, it is challenging to make the right choice. A dilemma normally involves two equally undesirable alternatives. And still, if you look on the bright side, the fact of having the choice is by itself something good enough.   How we learn to make conscious decisions is probably the crucial question. In order to broaden your experience in the art of decision-making, take into account that fear is the worst enemy. Fear of change, particulary, has been broadly studied by psychologists and researchers all over the world. I would say that we normally tend to exaggerate the importance of our own dilemmas. Inwardly, it may seem the most important ones but, if you openly share your problem with, for example, a friend, a new point of view could melt your niggling worries.

I went to a library and asked for a copy of the newspapers that had been mentioning or examining any fact related to the crimes. I can still see legitimate fear in the face of the librarian when she saw me, it’s an image that I will never forget. I picked up the pile of papers and studied it carefully, taking notes in a little notebook: locations, names of the victims, times and dates. In short, I tried to gather as much information as I could, in an attempt to clear up my mind. My life was a real mess as I couldn't foresee what would be my next movement. I couldn't think clearly. When I handed out the material to the librarian I had a hunch that something didn't dovetail. For the next four weeks I visited the crime scenes and to my surprise, I couldn't recall any of those places. People would run away from me as though I was a plague-ridden dog. Maybe I wasn't doing myself any favours by wandering around like a madman. On one occasion, someone summoned the pol

After 15 years of prison, not only strangers, family or friends but also I despise myself for a series of brutal crimes I can barely remember. Leaving prison should have been the most exciting thing a convict could ever have dreamt. Ex-convicts used to say that it can also be terrifying. My exit wasn't either intoxicating or scary, though. I felt empty, hopeless, more than lost, strayed. I was mental and that also goes back to when I was arrested on suspicion of murdering five young women. I had been seeing a psychiatrist for years, since, at high school, I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Until the trial took place I had been receiving a long-term psychiatric treatment that allowed me to live an almost normal life. For many years, I worked as a bellboy at a luxurious hotel in the city centre. After my morning shift, I even regularly attended classes of criminology at the Oxford University. My parents were well born and they encouraged me to study whatever I was keen on. It

The majestic St Pancras Railway Station is seething with people. Clara stands near the platform where the train to Paris is about to depart. Embracing a baby warmly, she shuffles her feet nervously. The sounds of trains rumble along, a feeling of growing anticipation runs through her. After a few minutes, Clara intently listens to the emotionless voice that utters the expected announcement: their train is getting into the station. She looks at the vanishing point as the Eurostar slows down and comes to a standstill. Five minutes and the journey will start. The train railway carriage smells of life as London is left behind. - Paul, darling. Please, wake up, I have something to tell you. - I hear you. - I'm very happy. - Me too. - All I wanted was to be with you, to have our own baby. You can't know how many times I have prayed to God for this moment. - I see. - If only things hadn't been so difficult. - I didn't want to hurt you. - I know. We cannot chan

In the sixteenth century Nicolaus Copernicus developed a theory in which he positioned the Sun near the centre of the Universe, with Earth and the rest of the planets, orbiting around. Despite being imprecise, his theory had laid the foundations for more accurate hypothesis that would be proved in the following two centuries. Now, we know full well that neither the Earth nor the Sun are at the centre of the Universe. In fact, we already know about the existence of exoplanets, which are planets beyond our solar system. As of today, 3475 of those have been confirmed. Kepler 150-f, an Ice Giant, is the latest discovery. How are exoplanets found? Being completely ignorant about this subject, I would never dare to give a detailed explanation. However, according to NASA's website, the vast majority of exoplanets are detected by using a technique named Transit. Stars dim when a planet passes directly between the observer and thus, studying the amount of light shed by a star, we can d

15th November 2000. Peter returned from work to find his house had burned down. Amanda’s body had vanished. No ashes to scatter on the waters of the Tamesis River. Peter ended up heartbroken, filled with grief, alone. 20th April 2017. Peter returns to find his house uninhabited, almost lifeless. 6,000 days, nights included, are supposed to be more than enough to get over a loss. But Amanda was special, too unforgettable. He might appear to endure the distress caused by Amanda's death but, in truth, he can barely foresee a glimmer of hope in his black reality. After many years of aimless wandering, he is exhausted. Because he is not living but dying, not walking but wandering. Death is a central part of life. It has always been that way. It just so happens that sometimes a loss is tantamount to a devastating drought. Suddenly, zest for life no longer exists and is replaced by a decaffeinated world, so dehydrated, desiccated, devoid of juice and energy a reality that seems u

I enjoy the solitude of life. There is only so much one can learn by itself. Do not get me wrong, sometimes I can be a good human companion too (ask my dog if you cannot believe me). Do not ask my wife though, she should be tagged as a limited edition human being because she is the only person that really understands my idiosyncrasy. I deeply adore Marta. I often ask myself big questions. At any moment, you could find me wandering about, listening to my preferred classical "hit", feeding my brains with some food for thought, aloof. I would like to say that I probably have nothing against you. My rudeness is involuntary, totally unintentional.  What makes us humans? I recently discovered a BBC Radio podcast in which the presenter, Jeremy Vine, and a guest, share half an hour trying to figure out the answer. At the very beginning of each programme, Jeremy asks the guest the question, which is answered as merely foreplay in the form of an essay. After that, Jeremy p

Imagine what things would be like if the human race were hovering on the brink of extinction. The "Voluntary Human Extinction Movement" has already done their homework. You might be thinking  "Oh Jesus, seriously? Somebody help! That bloke's barking mad!" You may well laugh but I am in deadly earnest, this movement exists and they also have their own pun: VHEMT must be pronounced "vehement".  According to an article published on the WWF website and entitled “How many species are we losing”, no less than 10,000 species are estimated to be dying out every year. Opportunistically, VHEMT presents an alternative to the human exploitation of nature. Only by taking part in their crusade against the human race should we restore the Earth's biosphere to its former glory. Seemingly, the voluntary extinction of one species, the Homo Sapiens, is all we need to amend the legacy of centuries of neglect. The plan is simple: to stop breeding. I utterl

Thursday night. Rachel is death to the world. Last night, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She has been busy with her wedding preparation. Yesterday, she took the dress to The Wedding Boutique at Harrods to have it altered. Despite being allergic to London, her recent weight loss and the forthcoming event deserves her presence. Fortunately, last month she stumbled upon the ad "Cottage with access to the silence, only the sounds of nature" when, at the dentist's, she skimmed the classified section in a housing magazine. Rachel and John threw caution to the winds and took out a £120,000 mortgage to buy the cottage and the surrounding plot of land. She finally achieved her ambition to own a cottage. John has just listened to Rachel's voicemail message: "John, I can't wait till tomorrow when you get back from your business trip. The weather forecast said a stormy night was expected there, in Dublin. Have a nice and safe trip. I'll

Human beings possess an extraordinary quality invisible to the naked eye: the ability to imagine how someone else feels in a difficult situation. The word that describes this quality is sympathy and we must not confuse it with empathy, which has a broader meaning and includes also understanding feelings of people who are in a better situation. When you have the power of understanding another person's feelings, you are also the owner of a fantastic quality intrinsically attached to humankind: the faculty of producing mental images of what has not been experienced. It is known as your mind's eye or imagination. Sympathy and empathy, both need this power to exist. In layman terms, sympathy is feeling sorrow and compassion, but also showing charity and humanity. Empathy, on the other hand, is purely and simply putting youself in another's shoes, whether those shoes were luxury or humble. But, why do humans feel sympathy? If evolution was supposed to favour those who a

Back on her desk, Beth wonders why the killer has changed his pattern. It is unusual for a serial killer to make the slightest change in the modus operandi. "We must've overlooked something, this case must've been a coincidence", she mumbles. David is sitting next to her, apparently aloof. He wonders why the death has been advanced in time. It does not make any sense. Confused and stumped, they rack their brains to find an explanation for the happenings. Beth and David make a thorough review of the events and after careful consideration they draw a conclusion: the 10th body does not belong to the case. It was sheer coincidence to find it in Walthamstow Central Station. They both know that there is little statistical evidence to support this "coincidence", however. Two printed sheets of paper rest on the workstation, showing a list of Underground lines and the Prime Numbers sequence. 01:00 p.m. Inspector May holds an online press conference. The news h

Friday, 21st of December, 2011. 7:00 a.m. in the morning. The news bulletin opens with the 10th death in a row . "London Metropolitan police are conducting an investigation after the body of a middle-aged woman was found fully clothed, lying prone on the ground of Walthamstow Central Station. At first, constable B.I., the first police officer arriving at the crime scene, speculated about the possibility of a natural death . She soon changed her mind after seeing the sheer terror in the woman's motionless face." Paul looks at his kettle. It definitely needs descaling. The sound of boiling water muffles the radio receiver, making the news bulletin unintelligible. The toaster is on. He is about to breakfast on tea and toasts, as usual. Suddenly, his mobile phone rings. "What the hell?", he murmurs. He is chief in command for the special operation launched on account of the series of killings that have been taking place recently. He warned the team

A strange threesome , arranged along the picture, as if it were an unsolved puzzle, except that it is not. A woman, dressed in blue and advanced in years, shows a scrawny physique . She tell us the story of a world marked by poverty and hunger, a world of social inequalities and gender disparities . She is not ill, she is a death-in-life symbol. The little sign that says "tourist" indicates the presence of foreigners, probably wealthy visitors. In a global world where the plight of the poor is also a business, where only a part plays God over the rest, we cannot shut the stable door after the horse has bolted . The blinkered animal next to the woman. It unveils another dismal reality. For want of willingness to help others, the vast majority of us are incapable of understanding the boundaries between a sense of guilt (or the lack of it) and our own ability to contribute to improving the quality of life of hundreds of human beings. A blinke