February 23
I love reading diaries because they allow me to live someone else’s life. Good diets generate a certain fascination, a sweet addiction that transports you to other realities without having to leave your home. It is not an addiction in the negative sense, but rather an intimate connection with the experiences and emotions of another human being. It’s like being comfortably propped up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, while you discover other people’s experiences through their words. A diary allows you to enter the mind and heart of the author, to know his deepest thoughts and his reflections on everyday life.
February 24
Seven years ago, I made a major decision in my life: to start writing every morning instead of going to the gym. I wanted to start the day with mental clarity, like taxi drivers who already know everything that happens in the world first thing in the morning. So I started getting up before the sun came up, sacrificing hours of sleep so I could enjoy a quiet coffee on the couch, read the news online, or check Twitter while the world still seemed asleep. This routine gave me a sense of productivity and allowed me to come to work with a sense of personal accomplishment. I kept up this practice for an entire year, without exception. He was exercising without a thermal shirt or specialized footwear, without posting photos on Instagram with motivational hashtags. I thought I was doing it to keep pace, but now, seven years later, I realize I was doing it to stop being a machine and start being a person.
February 25
Growing up means letting go of metaphors and embracing pragmatism. This led me to make a new New Year’s resolution: to exercise again, but this time in a more conventional way, with sports clothes, running shoes and a mobile app that records the kilometers traveled. I try to go to the gym three mornings a week, except for Wednesdays, which is the day I write the article for Thursday. But at seven in the morning, when the alarm goes off, I’m tempted to go for a run along Diagonal instead of working out in the gym. After two months of this internal struggle, I have finally decided to change my schedule and exercise in the afternoon. I’ve learned that the only motivation I have for running is to be able to write a book in response to Haruki Murakami, arguing that my favorite exercise is writing.
February 26
More than ten years ago, I wrote that leaving my town and returning to Barcelona on a Sunday afternoon was like going into exile. A wise man told me to wash my mouth out with soap before talking about exile, and he was right. However, Sunday afternoons are still sad for me. Yesterday, however, I decided to make it even sadder and went for a run. On the way home, a friend texted me saying he forgot to buy toilet paper, rabbit food and a pizza for dinner. I entered the supermarket and, while waiting in line, a stranger looked at me, as if he had seen something strange. Maybe he was an Italian from Siena, I thought. Or maybe he was a good Samaritan who wanted to warn me about the quality of the toilet paper. He came over and asked me if I was the author of a book he had read. I was speechless, but I was even more surprised when he told me that he was a professor of Catalan Philology and an expert on an author I admire. We started talking about literature and I discovered that we had many interests in common. It was an unexpected meeting, but very enriching.
February 27
I explained to Antoni Isarch that my book is not only about the author I admire, but about his craft of writing. That’s why I decided to write my diary in the Velodrome, a place with a great historical burden. I knew I wanted to write about my experience reading the author, but I also wanted to do it in a place that would connect me with other writers who had been there. So I started writing at the Velodrom, a bar with a unique atmosphere. Here, the words come to life and transport me to other times and realities. It’s like I’m sharing a table with the great writers of the past, chatting about literature and letting their ideas inspire me. This bar is like a placenta that protects me and allows me to grow as a writer. Here, the words flow and make me feel alive.
February 28
Today I arrived at the Velodrome at eight in the morning, but nothing seems the same since I met Antoni Isarch. They tell me that in this very place, many years ago, important historical events took place. It’s as if history intertwines with the present and transports me to other times. As I write this article, I feel as if I am sharing the table with writers of the past, as if I am living in another time. It is a magical experience that allows me to connect with literature and with the writers who have marked our culture. Here, at the Velodrome, words come to life and make me feel part of a literary tradition that will never die.