Month: February 2026

HELLOOOOOO… So, I finished The Time of the Doves (even tho I was in a whole other country), and honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how a book can be both incredibly simple and emotionally chaotic at the same time. Half the time I felt like I was eavesdropping on someone mumbling to themselves while doing chores, just a constant demonstration of inside thoughts. The other half I was like, “Wait, how did we get here? When did everything fall apart?” It’s a strange reading experience, not necessarily bad, just… not what I’m used to.

One thing that threw off me right away was how fast Natalia loses her identity, and how small she makes herself. Like, she literally introduces herself and Quimet immediately decides that’s not her name anymore: “I said my name was Natalia, he kept laughing and said I could have only one name: Colometa.” (p.18). And she just… goes with it?. That moment set off every alarm bell in my head, but it seemed so acceptable to her.

What I actually found most interesting wasn’t the war or the trauma, it was how lonely the book feels. Even when Natalia is surrounded by people, she’s basically alone in her own head. She doesn’t push back, she doesn’t question anything, she just absorbs whatever happens to her like a sponge, a freaking sponge. It’s frustrating, but also kind of heartbreaking. You can tell she never had the space to figure out who she was before life started making decisions for her.

And the doves… hmmm don’t get me started. I know they’re symbolic and all that, but the way they slowly take over her house felt like a metaphor for everything else in her life: things piling up, taking space, eating her energy, and she just keeps feeding them because what else is she supposed to do? I don’t think she knows she can actually talk back or take a little initiative… and that’s pretty much as much of a people pleaser as you can get. ._.

After you read it… I’m curious how you interpreted Natalia’s passivity. Did you see it as trauma? Social conditioning? Or just her personality?

As usual…

See you next week!

xoxo

This week the read was the Black Shack Alley, and it left me feeling heavier than I expected. Not in a dramatic way, more like the realization that settles in after you stop reading. Jose’s story is sad, but what really hurts is the world around him. Everything feels pre-decided, boxed in by systems he never chose.

What stayed with me most is how much love exists in such a harsh environment. M’man Tine isn’t gentle, but her sacrifices are huge. Her discipline, her strictness, even her cruelty at times all come from fear…fear that Jose will be trapped in the same life she’s been forced to live. It’s painful to see how love can become twisted when people are pushed into survival mode by poverty and social structure.

Even when Jose gets access to education, the inequality doesn’t disappear. It just shows up differently. The contrast between him and classmates like Serge makes it clear that school isn’t the great equalizer we like to believe it is. Background still speaks louder than effort. Clothes, confidence, money… quietly separates people, even when they sit in the same classroom.

That’s what makes the book feel so real. We’re always told that education changes destiny, but Black Shack Alley shows how limited that promise can be. Opportunity exists, but it’s uneven, fragile, and often comes with a constant reminder of where you come from.

I didn’t finish the book feeling hopeful or angry, I guess just more aware. Aware of how deeply inequality is built into everyday life, and how hard it is to escape, even when you’re doing everything “the right way”

Ps (don’t answer if you don’t feel comfortable), but have you ever felt like an outsider or treated differently because of the social structures that surround us?

See you in two weeks this time…

xoxo

So, I’ve been sitting with this book for more hours than I’d like to admit. It’s called Nada which literally means “nothing”, and honestly, that’s exactly what it feels like at first. But Carmen has this way of writing a “quiet” story that somehow sits right in your chest. Since the main character and I are basically the same age, it’s hitting a lot closer to home than I expected.

The story follows a girl named Andrea (fun fact: my mom’s name) who moves to Barcelona for university, full of that “new chapter” energy. But instead of the dream life, she lands in this chaotic, suffocating place.

It’s not “loud” drama; it’s that heavy, awkward tension that lives in the walls of a house and prevents it from ever feeling like a home. You know that feeling when you’re in an elevator not knowing where to look or if you should stay silent…It’s exactly that.

The Mood:

The plot doesn’t rush, and honestly, it doesn’t need to. It zooms in on the things we all feel but rarely talk about:

• The Loneliness: That specific kind of isolation you feel even when people are right next to you.
• The Hunger: Not just for food, but that desire for more out of life.
• The In Between: That weird, shaky stage of trying to figure out who you are while feeling totally lost.

Why It Hits Hard:

Andrea spends a lot of time just observing. She’s the girl in the corner of the room taking it all in, and being in her head makes everything feel so much more intense. You’re right there with her, feeling awkward, out of place, and quietly desperate for a sense of freedom.

The setting itself feels worn down and tired, just like the people. There’s this constant battle between her inner world and a reality that feels a bit too gray.

In the end, it’s a book about surviving emotionally when you don’t really have the tools yet. It’s about realizing who you are by seeing exactly who you don’t want to become. It’s heavy, yeah, but it leaves you feeling a little less alone in your own “nothing” moments.

So guys… What makes you feel a little less lonely?

As we know, I’ll come by next week again with a new blog

But for now…

Xoxo 

Okay, so “Agostino” isn’t your typical vacation read. Sure, it’s set in Italy during the summer, but it’s way more than just tanning and sand. It kinda takes you on this interesting ride through the mind of a 13 year old kid who’s suddenly hit with the first few harsh realities of the adult world or as I don’t like to call it: “the real world”.

The big turning point is when Agostino realizes his mom is into this other guy. It’s like his wake up call, his reality was challenged by someone. It’s not just about jealousy, it’s like his whole foundation is shaken. He goes from being her little buddy to feeling totally lost and confused.

Then comes the group of older boys. Agostino’s trying so hard to fit in, acting all tough, but you can see he’s just a kid playing dress up, he’s faced with new realities of class differences and sexuality. It’s like he’s searching for something to fill the void left by his mom, but he ends up getting in way over his head, and probably growing up faster than he should’ve.

What really hits you is how quickly Agostino loses his innocence, I guess for everyone there comes a time in life that marks a line of a before and after, the first time we have to “grow up” even though this process is rarely linear . It’s not just one thing; it’s a series of moments that chip away at his naivety. By the end of the summer, he’s not the same kid. He’s seen too much, and he’s forced to confront some pretty uncomfortable truths about himself and the world.

To me this book is a reminder that growing up isn’t always pretty. It’s messy, confusing, and sometimes downright terrible. But it’s also a necessary part of becoming who you are. Because what would we be without our own little questionable experiences?

how about you guys? Do you remember the first moment that pushed you to grow up and stop seeing the world like a perfect little place?

let’s run it back next week!
xoxo