If Jonás turned into a bird I could ask him to let me fly by his side, like in ‘Wild is the Wind’.

I’d like to have dinner with Jonás, but today he won’t be home. ‘I’m having dinner with my dad,’ the message says. I called him. We argued on the phone about something stupid. He’s going to spend the night there. I wish I’d never said anything.

The dwarf on the block. Today he was wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a tiny cane. In the evening we exchanged glances. I felt a lot like the dwarf, on another scale of life and needing to lean on a tiny cane.

The dwarf, yes, is a dwarf. He’s a neighbour. Probably with a voting card. With a love life and a credit history. But then, the dwarf is also an idea. Of someone who lives on another scale, someone who lives among objects that are too large, too heavy or too tall. Someone who lives in a system, a routine, in everyday life. And yet.

Today I went for coffee with my friend Tania. In the Escandón neighbourhood, Calle de la Prosperidad crosses Avenida Progreso. I read the intersections of streets like they’re fortune cookies.

Where am I? In a chair, yes, but it feels like the middle of the ocean. I swim on and get further away. I swim forwards, but I go backwards. The beach seems more distant than before.

This evening Tania, sipping her beer, said casually that according to her cousin from Acapulco, if you don’t want to drown in the sea you have to swim diagonally. Wait for the tug of the waves and swim not forwards but diagonally.

How do you swim diagonally in life?

I long for the morning when I wake up transformed into a swallow. Now I imagine two swallows holding a ribbon in the air. On the ribbon, the words ‘Ideal Notebook’ can clearly be distinguished. The swallow on the left is me, and the swallow on the right is the dwarf on my block.

Two people metamorphosed into animals take on the same proportions. The best time to form a relationship with someone is when they change form.

If a metal band metamorphoses on stage at the Foro Alicia, they’ll end up as a group of foxes dressed in black. If the university orchestra metamorphoses in the Nezahualcóyotl concert hall midway through a performance, they’ll end up as foxes dressed in black. It’s a simple equation: x equals metamorphosis. You need to find x to know which animal you’d be.

One thing I don’t like about felt tips is their felt tips. I write by hand, and I have small writing. You can imagine how annoying it gets.