2018-02-14 204 Views

Madrid, 10th June, 2014

He wanted a richer life, he wanted a life dedicated to a passion, he wanted a written life. So he set about writing it.

He wrote and he wrote, and never stopped saying that he was doing so, and what’s more he recommended it, saying, like so many others, quite sensibly, that the only thing needed to be able to write was having something to say and to say it. Things soon got out of hand, however, gong beyond all sense, because he never stopped saying things in writing, as well as continually going on about the merits of what he was doing.

He himself began to feel that through this rhythmic movement of writing he was losing his head, that this was out of his hands, as though he no longer knew how to do anything else. He had the strange feeling he was turning into an instrument by the moment, as though he were nothing more than the medium of something written somewhere else.

But this passion no longer amused him as it had before: now he just couldn’t stop writing, and nothing made sense unless he wrote it down. When he realized that he had dedicated his life to a passion, exactly as he’d wanted, he also realized that he himself was written, trapped, with no way out.

Drawing: Miguel Panadero

Text: José Félix Valdivieso. Director of Communications. IE Business School

A story from Dibugrafías, by Miguel Panadero and José Felix Valdivieso, published by The book can be bought here