I was born one autumn in Madrid, more than fifty years ago. As a child, I spent hours inventing stories on an old Olivetti typewriter that clattered around our house. I was obsessed with mythology and those classic animated films where absurdly muscular heroes defied the gods and ventured into forgotten magical realms. With a mind full of fantasy, it's no wonder I spent all my pocket money on comic books and Saturday matinees at the local cinema.

But life twists and turns. Before I knew it, I was channelling my creativity into more grounded pursuits - like advertising. I've spent years crafting campaigns, slogans and visuals for over a hundred brands and multinationals. It's still creative work, but always bound by client tastes (often questionable) and commercial goals. For a long time, I created what others asked for - while silencing the stories I truly wanted to tell.

Still, the itch never left me. I blogged, drafted articles, started stories... always haunted by the sense that something was missing. That I could do more.

Then, during one of many house moves, I stumbled across an old folder full of childhood stories - typewritten pages with clumsy grammar, but brimming with imagination. They were raw and naïve, but deeply honest. And something sparked. I sat down at my computer and typed:
"Graiport was a coastal village - the kind where it's impossible to sleep past eight..."
And just like that, it all began.