Dear Logbook, a new life begins and another ends. My Diary, I repeat to you almost the same as the last time I reflected my thoughts on these pages. I do NOT forget about you, there is not a day that goes by that I do not remember cancer, neither mine nor the cancers of

Dear Logbook, a few weeks before the beginning of the second year of a new life. Oh, my dear Diary! I have not forgotten you. Sorry if you feel that way. But what has happened since that day in May, the eve of the Feast of the Virgin of Fatima, would be long to tell,

Dear Logbook, weeks after the first year of a new life. My dear Diary, today I am writing to tell you what happened at this time. More than three months have passed since my last write. That is a sign that life has happened without great news. I was saying goodbye to you saying that

Dear Logbook, days after the first year of a new life. My dear Diary, today I am writing to you with mixed feelings. Today should be a day of joy and happiness, to be able to say that for now I am still cancer free. But other events these days sadden my family and the

Dear Logbook, first year of a new life. My diary. It’s been almost two months since I last wrote to you. Life has changed and continues to change a lot during all this time. At this time, the named “bug” is still with us and causing havoc and sadness. Let us trust that in this

Dear Logbook, three hundred and fifteenth day of a new life. Oh my Logbook, please don’t be mad at me. So many days without writing to you. This has been the longest period of time I haven’t written to you. But I confess one thing. Yes, I have opened you, and at times I have

Dear Logbook, two hundred and forty-fifth day of a new life. Today my diary a year ago that I was enlisting in the ranks of the KS ship to begin my expedition. Hard days on the high seas where the potions supplied had an effect. A year has already passed! A year of changes, of

Dear Logbook, two hundredth twentieth day of a new life. My Diary, already back in these lands that welcomed us a little more than three years ago, I am writing to you to celebrate, to remember or to embrace what happened a year ago today. That August 22, 2019, Marta, my better half whom I

Dear Logbook, one hundred eighty-seventh day of a new life. My diary, today I write to you again to tell you a little how I am doing. In these last twelve days, life has continued as usual. We have continued working from home and in the afternoons being with my in-laws. Last weekend, we could