This morning I've taken Mika to a very nice square here in Palma. I love the place because of its placidness and its rather lonely character, notwithstanding the fact that it's located right at downtown. It's an ample but cosy space, with a remarkable double line of low trees forming a way which reminds me of an agora's stoa. At one side of the square there is a large piece of empty ground. Such spaces have always caught my attention in such a way that I actively search for them when walking the streets of a city --they stand out as a wild challenge to the usually rational vulgarity of the buildings surrounding them. Closing the square by the south there is the back side of Palma's oldest grammar school --very much looking like the one I went to in my hometown.

Sat in a bench while reading the last pages of Somerset Maugham's The Narrow Corner, with Mika placidly slept in his buggy by my side, wheels blocked, I've thought about how simple my life has become since my son was born —mornings I take care of him, afternoons I go to work. Anything else is unimportant. Two months ago I wouldn't have allowed myself to idle around like this. Today I rejoice while doing it. The pleasure of reading a good book in a beautiful place with your son by your side, the sun shining, and no further assignments.

My cousin Eva María, a very recent mother too, told me some days ago that she wanted her son Román to learn how to make his own life easy, as that was the only way for him to get to understand life in full complexity.