I never close a door before I open another one, and I never set up a lock. I never do so because I like to peep back every now and then to remember which way I came through, and because I’m very bad with keys, passwords, or any other device that relates to secrecy. I like the breeze running through the corridors I built bringing back aromas of vintage memories (call me nostalgic) perhaps due to the insisting concept of cross ventilation that was inoculated to me and my peers during our formation. I like to walk along with those winds, or at least have access to them, to ask them to transport me to other realities, some already lived, some alive, some yet to be lived. Today I open a door, I perceive the fresh mediterranean air.