Seville and Barcelona, ​​home, as I would call it. Growing up in them

Your mother had just died, and trying to free yourself from your hateful paternal family and your past, there you were, looking for a place to sleep in Barcelona, ​​the other side of Spain

You timidly knocked on a door that had a note written by her on it. Perhaps fate had wanted to bring you together again, or perhaps Mom knew too much.

A woman in her 40s or 50s opened the door, petrified, yelling for her husband.

“Pablo!!”