As I embark on this long-awaited launch and rebranding of myself, I have to get some things off my chest, starting with the obligatory AI disclosure. Habits, intentions, and resources. It’s 3 a.m. on a Sunday. This is the best time of the day for me. I don’t need a lot of hours of sleep…
This is the second installment of a two-part series. You can read Part 1 here. This story started only a few days ago, and already details are fading, so I better wrap this up today. Saturday was a grueling day at the ER… er, I mean VIP station of Hospital Internacional de Colombia, that included…
This is Part 1 of a two-part screed. You can read Part 2 here. What should I write about? I’ve been waiting for this moment, but there is nothing in my mind to write about. Oh, wait. No, there are too many things to write about. The problem is that I don’t know where to…
What happens when too many outsiders come looking for “cheap rent”? A personal look at gentrification, protest, and privilege from an immigrant in Colombia—asking not just what we owe, but what we displace.
As I embark on this long-awaited launch and rebranding of myself, I have to get some things off my chest. It’s 3 a.m. on a Sunday. This is the best time of day for me. I don’t need a lot of sleep to feel refreshed—but I also don’t need much awake time to get tired…
✍️ Welcome. From the ashes of Resistance Is Fruitful rises something quieter and more personal. Dispatches from Colombia and beyond. Stories worth holding. 🇺🇸 English (U.S.) After too many years, this story begins at a dining table in a new apartment in Bucaramanga, Colombia. The balcony will make an appearance once things settle a bit more….
This is a story shaped by two complex dynamics: the fragmented reality of Colombia after decades of armed conflict — and the unconventional way this piece came to life. This bilingual essay is the result of a collaborative process between a human author and an AI writing assistant. It likely wouldn’t exist without either…
After some time living in Colombia, there’s something I keep noticing. It’s not loud or obvious. It’s in the pauses between conversations, the ease of a handshake that lingers a second longer, the casual way a young guy might lean in when talking to someone twice his age. Younger men here don’t seem to carry…