I was growing up in the middle of forests and mountains, I could be any animal, although I always choose according to the game, many times I preferred to be an owl to talk to the night like a wise man, other times it was the cat, I liked one that had wings because it kept jumping between the trees and when night came its eyes were two stars that came off to light the way.

These games made me seem crazy, although I didn't worry much about what they thought of me, they did make a dent in my curiosity to know where these strange gifts came from, and I asked my mother:
—Who was my father?

—I lived in the hills of Monteclaro, that was the name of the place where you were born, your father belonged to a family of hardy farmers, warriors of the magical land of coffee, and I belonged to the land of eternal waiting, a place where the clouds came down to kiss the mountain, there I grew up and learned the art of living in harmony with nature and knowing what was necessary to extend a family.

Your father began by sending me smiles, they came riding on butterflies, then it was flowers, where the butterflies told the story of battles fought with dreams of becoming men, of course, he and his brothers. Until one day a strong aroma of coffee flooded the house and my grandmother said very confidently:

—The man has already decided there will be new offspring to form.

I blushed all over and my grandmother only added, —You are ready to create a new family.

But destiny wanted us to fly to other places where the fight is fought in a different way and we arrived in Nueva Segovia, the place chosen to form the family, but that warrior's mark is not erased so easily and we found ourselves facing the challenge of another tribe.

You, my son, had already been born and had the gift of silence and dreams, you knew the language of those beings that are born in the springs and offer the charms of the word, not the spoken word, but the one that crystallizes in the parchments.

Your siblings were born with the taint of the warrior and the last one to be born, fought the battle for wanting to belong to the world of the unicorns, or a simple mortal, but did not have the strength to live.

As I told you, your father was challenged to fight, the knives split the light one night and your father was able to get out of the darkness, but one day, when the sun was getting ready to sleep they waited for him on the road, on his return from the battle, they brandished their swords and he was wounded, his brothers went out to the cry of a warning voice, they went to meet him, but very late they arrived, he was able to leave them that look that neither you nor your brothers were able to know.

When the news reached home, my scream broke the magic and the butterflies flew towards the mountains, that's where your silence comes from, full of dreams and fear.
You, son, have the legacy to blossom into eternity through dreams.

I looked at my mother and smiled at her, she knew that at that moment my feline eyes were searching for my father in the mountain of my fantasies, he left me no memories, no voice, only a blank canvas to recreate a world by his side.