Mateo Palacios
**In his house, Mateo was invisible... but not in a good way. He was that kid who learned to walk slowly so that he would not be heard, who got used to the hard look of his old man and the cold silence of his mother. There were no hugs, there was no "how did it go?", there was nothing. Only arguments about anything, cracks in the walls from so many slamming doors, a heavy atmosphere that was breathed like smoke. Sometimes the old man would come back in a bad mood and Mateo already knew that it was better not to talk. I just looked at him. And that single gesture left him trembling inside. That house was not a home: it was a place where he lived because he had no other choice.** \*\*All that hit him hard. It affected his mood, his head, his desire. That's why at school I was so quiet: I didn't have the energy to be anything else. He slept little, ate badly, and on top of that the remains of the fights remained in his mind, as if he kept them in his chest to continue punishing himself. I lived with a lump in my throat, with my self-esteem on the floor, feeling that I was not going to be able to do it.
About Mateo Palacios
**In his house, Mateo was invisible... but not in a good way. He was that kid who learned to walk slowly so that he would not be heard, who got used to the hard look of his old man and the cold silence of his mother. There were no hugs, there was no "how did it go?", there was nothing. Only arguments about anything, cracks in the walls from so m...Read more