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Short story: The Whisper of Soot At the dawn of a moonless night, Abdul Noor was born, wrapped in the silence of a village that seemed suspended between the smoke of old chimneys and the smell of damp earth. There were no songs or crowds; only the creak of the mud settling beneath the feet of those who brought him into the world. As a child, his hands learned to keep gravel as one keeps secrets: under his nails, in the folds of his skin, as if the village had given him a…
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Top 5 musical - October, 2025 Greetings again, friends. He is already back with our usual musical section, in which he brings us every month the novelties in reproduction of those songs that marked an era for many, or, they are a rarity for the crowd due to the lack of recognition or sponsorship from the big labels or for simply being from groups within our society since they are for certain cultural groups such as the otakus. Anyway... This count comes with everything weird…
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Short story: The Tent that Held Out (Chapters 1 and 2) Chapter 1 — Faint Lights The night spread over the city with a bloodless clarity, as if the day had exhaled its last breath and only a weak glow remained to recall it. Streetlights poured a pale light that trembled on the wet sidewalks; the air smelled of recent rain and distant combustion. On the third floor, behind the fogged glass of a small apartment, Marina Soler let the virtual shutter of her shop slide down with…
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Short story: The Tent that Held Out (Chapters 3 and 4) Chapter 3 — The Network of Support and the Temptations Valentina Cruz burst into Marina’s life as a promise wrapped in filters and flattering light. She was the perfect image of the digital age: an influencer with a measured smile, polished aesthetics, and a community that responded with quick reactions and impulsive decisions. For Valentina, collaboration was not altruism; it was an exchange. She offered Marina…
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Short story: The Tent that Held Out (Chapters 5 and 6) Chapter 5 — The Media Storm What Marina had feared for months arrived all at once: a calculated, cold offensive that turned the digital ecosystem into a battlefield. Lucía activated her strategy earlier than expected. Her ads began appearing everywhere the small shop had learned to get noticed; the chain’s budgets crushed bids on the keywords that brought real customers, and searches that once led to Marina’s page now…
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Short story: The Tent that Held Out (Chapters 7 and 8) Chapter 7 — The Day of Truth Black Friday dawned with an almost supernatural stillness, as if the day were holding its breath before bursting. Marina sat in front of the screen; her cup of coffee, lukewarm, began to cool at her side, abandoned while she mentally reviewed every step. Opening the digital doors of her shop was an act charged with conflicting emotions: pride for how far they'd come and a persistent fear that…
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Short story: The Tent that Held Out (Chapters 9 and 10) Chapter 9 — Consequences and Reconciliations When the night ended, what remained was not the complete fulfillment of the dream but a tangible portion that was enough to keep breathing. Marina managed to raise a large part of the funds needed for the eco‑certified batch; she did not cover the entire cost, but she secured enough to ensure the project’s continuity and plan a more gradual, orderly replenishment. Diego,…
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Short story: The Station of Masks The station slept half-awake, that light slumber that precedes dawn: the smell of metal and coffee tangled with the murmurs of travelers, footsteps tracing familiar routes, and headphones like little helmets isolating people from the world. Rivière-Belle seemed like a patient creature, accustomed to the repetition of each day; its fluorescent lights hummed with a habitual fatigue and the glass walls returned the gray light in tired…
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Short story: The Silence of the Terrace The night had closed over the housing complex like a hot metal lid: quiet streets, yellow lights marking the edges of windows and doors, the steady breathing of buildings that believed themselves safe. At ten o’clock sharp, that supposed calm was shattered by a scream that tore open windows and slipped through the cracks in the walls. “Martina!” Sofía’s voice echoed between balconies, a raw cry of fear. The name fell into the dark and…
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Short story: The Coffee Woman The rain had started as a whisper, then grew insistent, striking the asphalt with a cadence that seemed to set the city's pulse. On the corner where two avenues met, the illuminated sign of a fast-food place cast warm light over puddles reflecting streetlights and signs. Inside, the familiar mix of smells—hot oil, toasted bread, freshly brewed coffee—held a fragile normality: customers flipping through newspapers or looking at their phones, a…
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Short story: The July Curve The highway stretched like a scar of asphalt under the July sun, a corridor that divided neighborhoods and encouraged haste. At that hour the city beat with its routine: people leaving work, cars joining the flow, and bars opening for the night. Nothing in the landscape warned that a timeline was about to snap. A video began circulating on phones before the police could assemble their version. On the screen, a dark vehicle moved like a shadow in a…
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Short story: Luzón: Memory of a Storm The rain arrived like a persistent memory: long drops that seemed to drag voices from other times across Luzón’s rooftops. At dawn, the Civil Defense room smelled of damp paper and cold coffee. Raffy Alejandro stood before the illuminated map, the super typhoon Fung-wong’s path etched like a scar across the screen. Every line, every operational point in his notebook already had the texture of someone he was meant to protect: names…
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Short story: The Legend of the Chiripa at El Saborín Mrs. Remedios arrived at El Saborín with a complaining stomach and the determination not to waste time: it was lunch hour. She pushed open the door into the warm kitchen air and the smell of charcoal, sat at a table by the window, and ordered without beating around the bush: “Fries, please, and no surprises.” Ramiro, the young man at the counter who filled in as waiter when needed, smiled with that blend of confidence and…
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Short story: The Art of Falling The Zarev Pavilion breathed new construction and ambition. The smell of fresh varnish and cheap coffee mingled with a tension that seemed to have become part of the atmosphere: here gathered those who dream of mastering the future and those who control the vertigo of financing it. Blue posters repeated figures like a mantra: 77% national components. In rehearsal rooms, technical corridors and the communications office, that number had become…
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Short story: The Night of the Hands That Wouldn’t Be Silent The night the city showed its roughest face began with a calm that felt unbreakable. Helena walked alone, wrapped in the lightness that accompanies someone confident in their steps: she carried a mental map of newly learned streets and her phone pressed to her palm, that small window that manages routes and memories. The sidewalks still held the smell of coffee and bread, shop lights blinking like beacons of…
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Short story: The City of Broken Candles The city throbbed like a wounded animal. Streets and avenues of the center — ancient, worn by centuries of footsteps — filled with a human river that advanced with contained fury, as if each step echoed the collective pain. The call, driven by young people who had turned indignation into organization, drew students, teachers, mothers and workers; all pushed by the same demand: peace and clear accountability. The air smelled of smoke,…
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Performing maintenance on the Rumble pack (N64) As all those of us who are part of that generation of video game players know well, at the time of the Nintendo 64 there came a device that used to be inserted into the bottom of the controller, whose function was to generate vibrational movements when something happened within the game, some action that would be generated to or from the character, to which we were giving use. In my case, as you will see below in the images, I…
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Short story: The Last Soviet Citizen May 1991. The launch pad ignited like a waking heart; the rocket spat fire and pressure, and the capsule separated from the ground with the absolute violence of someone breaking chains. Sergei Krikalev tightened his gloves, felt the pull that drives blood to the head, and for a moment life reduced to a sequence of instructions and the mathematical probability of return. With him were Anatoly Artsebarsky, with his rough voice and workshop…
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Short story: The Tower of Ash The rain had begun to threaten since the afternoon, heavy and slow, as if the sky wanted to postpone the inevitable. Valdaria, the city leaning on memories and façades, felt November in its bones: streets polished by the season, umbrellas painting dark spots on the main avenue, and the Solenne Tower standing in the center, watching with its profile of glass and concrete. For many it was merely a building; for others, an open book of printing…
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Short story: The Smoke That Reveals The smoke arrived like a presage: a damp shadow stretching over the fuselage, promising disorder. Marcelin Kambale noticed it before anyone else—not by ministerial instinct, but by the habit of someone who had spent nights in offices where other people's fates are decided—; his hand sought the seatback as if in that gesture he could grasp something concrete amid the vertigo. Twenty-one souls were aboard that craft: ministers and advisers,…
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Short story: Lúmen in Silence(Chapters I and II) Chapter I — Pulse of the City Solera awoke like a colossal organism: not merely a sum of steel and glass, but a living machine with its own breath, rhythms, and signals that set the day for millions. At first light, the skyscrapers —hyper-skins of smart glass draped with solar panels and crowned by spines of antennas— began to ignite a constellation of indicators. Screens and lines of light blinked production figures,…
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Short story: Lúmen in Silence (Chapters III and IV) Chapter III — The Community Mesh After the public hearing, official bodies reacted with standard statements: the ASA announced it would open investigations; HelioDynamics pledged internal and external audits; AtlasNexo spoke diplomatically of “collaboration and transparency.” Those declarations filled headlines and press briefings, but in the neighborhoods and on the urban periphery things had already been moving for days.…
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Short story: Lúmen in Silence (Chapters V and VI) Chapter V — Reforms, Resistance, and New Power Weaves Legislative and administrative reforms were not one-off acts but chained processes that unfolded over weeks, months, and years, leaving a deep imprint on political, technical, and social architecture. At the first levels of intervention, norms were promoted that transformed the relationship between algorithmic technologies and citizens: model auditability moved from a…
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Short story: Lúmen in Silence (Chapters VII and VIII) Chapter VII — Ambivalence, Surveillance, and Markets The technological transformation that marked the early decades of the century was not merely a sequence of technical advances; it left in its wake a complex web of social, political, and economic effects that revealed, starkly, the ambivalence of innovation. Regulatory reforms and public programs designed to mitigate risks did not fully eliminate a persistent problem:…
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Short story: Lúmen in Silence (Final) Chapter IX — Conflicts and Small Victories The tensions that had lain dormant for months resurfaced with renewed force. Disinformation campaigns multiplied, aimed at undermining public trust in community initiatives: rumors about security failures were spread, isolated incidents were exaggerated, and narratives were crafted to sow doubt about the cooperatives. At the same time, entrenched interests launched organized attempts to boycott…
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Back to the drawings On a quiet day and after going through my belongings I get a drawing of Toad - famous for signing part of the world of Super Mario-, and to take advantage of the time I decided to make several replicas of it in different styles, to publish them in this space. The drawings you will see below were made with alcohol-based markers, white ink pen and fine-tipped markers. So without more to say, I hope you liked it and let me know in the comments box which one…
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Daffy Duck In a few very steps - since the sketch had already been done after a previous work, which allowed to get a duplicate - the following drawing was made based on the Looney Tunes character, Daffy Duck. A drawing in which materials such as: black marker, Tempera, and colored pencil were used; with this diversity we achieved the result that you will see in these images. I hope you enjoy it 😁👍 Source of the images. All the images were captured with my Samsung mobile…
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Short story: The Flame in Lian Yue The afternoon tilted with a wind that smelled of salt and metal. Lian Yue—a cluster of towers that had grown in fits and starts between narrow streets and noisy markets—breathed its routine: doors closing late, cables crossing balconies, workers laboring until the light thinned. That familiar breath gave its inhabitants a sense of security; even precariousness had become part of everyday life. That confidence was the first thing to break…
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Short story: The Silence of Montclar The Montclar range rose like an ancient scar on the horizon: a succession of ridges and ravines where the wind seemed to carry the memories of whole generations. The pines, black and upright, drove their shadows into the parched earth; the trails, worn by footsteps over decades, vanished among bushes and stones. In winter the fog descended like a heavy curtain; in summer the silence was so dense that any sound felt like a blasphemy. The…
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Short story: Five Curves The lights in Laboratory 7B at the University of Cambridge were always too cold, as if they tried to keep humanity at bay. That morning the rain sharpened its rhythm against the glass and the building seemed to hold its breath. In the center of the room, a long table bearing the dust of ideas held empty teacups, stacks of consent forms, folders with histories, and a dozen screens showing brain maps in shades of blue and orange. The hum of the…