Born in Montreal in 1980. Raised in Puebla, Mexico from the age of six. Since then I’ve lived in Puerto Vallarta, Cancún, Mexico City, Madrid, Montréal, Barcelona, and now Madrid again, where I work at a startup, practice yoga daily, and write here. A therapist once handed me the term third culture kid and I reluctantly accepted it: from everywhere, belonging nowhere. A good part of this site is me learning to belong.
By trade I’m a designer who codes. You may know me from Method of Action, the design games I built years ago, back when I went by duopixel. That professional life has its own work log at method.ac/writing. This site is the other log — the inner one.
It began in 2019 as a travel log of walking from Montserrat toward the sea, and it never really stopped. Since then it has recorded a pandemic spent with my mother in Puebla, two hard chapters in Montréal caring for my grandparents, the death of my dog Nina, several more Caminos, quitting things and relapsing, romances attempted and avoided, dreams, conversations with strangers, and lately, conversations with machines.
A few honest warnings before you read on:
I write to listen to myself. Most entries are written in one sitting and lightly edited, if at all. They are self-absorbed by design — my working theory is that we resolve ourselves in order to make space for others. Whether the theory holds is being tested live, in public, at roughly the pace of one entry per day.
Nothing here is advice. When I write a prescription, it is for me, for this season of my life, and I routinely fail to follow it. I distrust ideology, including the ideology of having none. What I practice instead: not knowing, verifying premises, curiosity about the other, and joy in being proven wrong; though you’ll catch me falling short of all four.
It doesn’t resolve. Threads are picked up and dropped. Convictions announced in one entry dissolve three entries later. If you need a narrator who learns his lesson and keeps it learned, I will frustrate you. If you’re patient, the repetition is the story.
I take spirituality seriously and belong to no tradition. I balance intuition with reason, in periods, like alternating arms. My circle of friends is small but well curated. I identify as a heterosexual man, but my mind is clearly androgynous, and noticing the feminine and masculine modes of thinking is key to how I create.
I’m a process rather than a fixed entity, so this text will be outdated very soon.
If something here is useful to you, or you catch me telling myself a story that isn’t true, write to me. I reap great benefit when people confront my bullshit.