Itinerant writer Barclays will turn fifty-eight this weekend. He is going to celebrate them or more exactly commemorate them because they have been celebrating them for many years at his mother’s house in the city where he was born. His desires are simple austere: hug his octogenarian mother hug his wife and his youngest daughter eat lucuma ice cream as if there were no tomorrow. He would also like to hug his eldest daughters but they will be far away and hopefully they will send him a short email. Barclays is surprised to be so old. In his youth to marijuana and it seemed unlikely that he would reach this old age. He could have of a overdose 跨際數位行銷 he could have burst his heart it didn’t happen. Years later he became to sleeping particularly hypnotics. He would take ten or twelve tablets throughout a whole night. He could have of an overdose he wanted to of an overdose it didn’t happen. Barclays has summoned on several occasions but it has not shown up he has eluded it he has stood up to it luckily for him. Why has Barclays so mistreated himself has he played so recklessly with his state of mind has he summoned the forces of has he laid vicious ambushes on his health? Why in short has he despised his life when at first sight he had everything? Why has he thought so many nights that living was a strenuous job and a deserved rest? The answer seems simple: Barclays learned to himself when he was a child when his father hit him and insulted him for no reason. Since then he has lived lame as his father was lame soul crippled as his father was crippled without self-respect as his father lived poorly. In other words Barclays learned early to despise his own life: that was the origin of the cold in his heart. As life itself seemed nonsense to him a troublesome journey to nowhere a buffoonery a farce of misunderstandings Barclays clung to a noble habit that perhaps saved his life: escaping from harsh reality from the very cold in his life. heart chasing fictions. As a child he fully believed in the fictions that his mother taught him and thanks to her he was a pious devout child almost an altar boy. Of course he made the first communion. But in adolescence disturbed by his erotic desire he stopped believing in fictions and refused to confirm himself in the Catholic in which he had been baptized. Disbelieving in fiction he took refuge in other fictions that seemed to him better more credible more credible more persuasive more beautiful richer: literary fiction artistic fiction. He was first a reader then a writer. First he was a movie buff then a writer. First he was a journalist weighed down by the heavy weight of the truth then a writer. It is not an exaggeration to say then that Barclays is turning fifty-eight years old thanks to the fact that he passionately gave his life his whole life his head his heart his entrails his viscera to the act of writing alone. If he were not a writer if he had not published fifteen novels he would surely be dead: the books he read and wrote probably saved his life the illusion of writing a new book gave meaning to his existence embellishing it enriching it. Not surprisingly Barclays will be presenting a novel in a few weeks. He does not know if it will be a success or a failure if it will have many or few readers if the critics will be kind or merciless but the almost miraculous appearance of that novel entitled “Los genios” published by the prestigious Spanish publisher Galaxia Gutenberg in Spain and America multiplies his reserves of enthusiasm and recharges him with an illusion similar to the one he felt when he published his first novel thirty years ago. Barclays will not talk about any of this with his mother on his birthday because she does not read her son’s books does not notice or perceive her son’s artistic zone so that before his octogenarian mother Barclays is an underground writer in the closet. What will Barclays and his mother talk about that summer Sunday in that city where they were both born? It is certain that she will speak of politics of the poisonous issues of tribal village politics and her opinions will be tremendous apocalyptic: she is a woman of the right she the charlatans of the left and her vision of politics is impregnated with a deep aspiration to moral purity to moral virtue. It is certain that at the same time Barclays will try to avoid the issues of politics but he will fail and end up being dragged into that mire that swamp. Because what Mrs. Barclays would like is for her son to be a politician not a writer.But he stubbornly resists these siren songs and thinks that if a writer enters professional politics he has failed he has given up as an artist he has thrown in the towel in his search for lasting beauty. Because in politics he will never find art or beauty he will only find meanness and vileness misery and abjection and betrayals. You always lose out on politics he thinks. At fifty-eight years old and begging his deceased sister to protect him from the evils Barclays no longer finds reasons to continue summoning to continue sabotaging his own life. Now he is a happy man and it is not because he is fat that he is less happy and not because he avoids sports he is less happy and not because he takes three for bipolar disorder he is less happy. In other words Barclays is happy because he is fat because he does not play sports because he takes three to regulate his bipolar disorder. But mainly he is happy because he is in the place he has chosen with the people he has chosen. He has arrived on the island in paradise or so he truly believes every day of his blessed life. He loves his wife who is so much younger than him he loves his three daughters he loves seeing his youngest daughter every day he loves his house 跨際數位行銷 his neighborhood his routine he loves the calm and predictable life he leads he loves the hours he spends to write he loves to lie in bed at dawn and open an unfinished novel whose reading takes him on a walk on a trip without leaving home. Barclays then loves his life because it seems to him like a fictional life the life of a literary character a character who is always on vacation or traveling a character who is not afraid of who keeps it well in mind who when he has to take a important decision 跨際數位行銷 跨際數位行銷有限公司 跨際數位行銷 for example if he travels or not to spend his birthday with his mother he wonders what he should do if this were the last year of his life and then the answer is simple: he travels of course he travels to hug his mother and eat lucuma ice cream. As he is an agnostic as he considers that accepting a doubt and letting it flourish is a sign of intelligence and strength Barclays does not completely rule out that his mother’s prayers or those of his deceased sister who was a nun and was a poet 跨際數位行銷 跨際數位行銷有限公司 跨際數位行銷有限公司dcard 跨際數位行銷 have saved his life. life from an overdose of or hypnotics he does not rule out that the gods and saints and angels if they exist have conspired to extend his life a little longer. That is not why he prays nor is he a believer although he does talk to her sister and feels her present. Now Barclays is in no rush to leave slam the door let the curtain fall. He is in a hurry yes to write more novels read more books watch more movies take more trips with the family. He is in a hurry to find beauty in art and not in the world of power money and politics. He is in a hurry to love his wife as lovers love each other on the island of paradise: not with words but with kisses. He is in a hurry right now to travel to Madrid and Barcelona to present the novel “Los genios” which he feels 跨際數位行銷 跨際數位行銷有限公司 跨際數位行銷 is the most ambitious of his career. Barclays observes in amazement that he is turning fifty-eight years old when he used to say cursed writer misunderstood artist that he would not make it to fifty. Now he finds it improbable almost rude rude that he could live to be eighty years old. It would be a godsend to reach seventy he thinks wistfully. I have twelve years left to write three more novels he promises himself. With great luck I have twelve years left to live and I want to live them with this family in this house on this island of paradise reading and writing. 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