I grew up among writers. Mainly poets, short-story writers, and essayists, but i bet there were some novelists apart from the big ones living in the bookshelfs (dostoievski, sartre, etc), that must be the reason why when i had the chance i opted to become one (remember, dad, you pushed me so hard with the kids in the czech republic who at 7 spoke 5 languages, did ballet, played the violin, cello and 3 other instruments, excelled in swimming and were changing the world), too bad i achieved it late: i was already 17. As my parents were either teenagers or twenty-something in the sixties, you can imagine their train of thought. They became professors (to change the world). They gave birth to me and my sister (to change the world). They made a whole world in a house (to change the world). It was a summerhillian / revolutionary Baja California utopia. Everyone naked, reading, working, meditating, cooking, doing yoga, smiling, building, doing arts, watching the news, finding out what's going on in the part of the world where some people were actually trying to change the world (eastern Europe, the promised land, where we would someday move to start our real life). And then every 2 weekends we would cross the border to beautiful California, to buy our organic food, junk food, toys and essentially camouflage among the imperialist gringo who ater 150 years were still illegaly occupying the northern part of Mexico (California, Colorado, Arizona, Nuevo México and Tejas) and selling rotten tomatos to the rest of the world.

I don't know why, but i grew up with the idea that one can change the world through writing, something i insisted upon during the nineteen nineties, the zeros of the twenty-first century and that i kind of would give up if it weren't because with html you somehow can. Something in my dna still tells me that even if everything else failed: the revolution in Nicaragua, the commune in Paris, the Great Cultural Revolution in China, and even our little and beloved eternally reverberating Vaca House, there are still things that can be done (through writing).

A couple of months ago, a women on Facebook said 'hi', i didn't knew who she was but she told me we had met in a forgotten past and that she always remembered me because i broke up with the trotskyist party in Mexico cause they didn't want me to advance revolution via the creation of a comic book (Sulphurus), a role playing game (that i still dream of producing one day, altough it's name would now be Globaliphobia, and yes, my partner would still be my good twin, yes, it's obvious: i'm the evil one still up to this day), and zines. Me and comrade Sol left the party for good, never to come back again, ready to explore the avant-garde advancing our frontline in the dark alleys behind the streets in Tijuana via cyberpunk (cybercholos, they would call us, we would just secretly smile, twins have telepathic communication, don't you know?). History proved us right, an unexpected revolution exploded -> the internet and rave parties, the Zapatistas who changed the world with wonderful texts using electronic communications media and affirmative grassroots actions.

I still believe there's something to be done, with narrative media as a literatool. And i write this from where East Berlin used to be (now is only the east in Berlin) where i keep coming back, maybe because of that... 1989, there was a mistake, things would somehow get fixed back soon. Our whole life lost meaning in a tris-tras. People would take care of their mistake. Right. But still, life is literature and that can always somehow help us change the world. Leibniz can't be totally wrong, i hope. And like the Shamen sung back then: "We live together, we love together, do whatever we want together, and best of all in possible worlds, nothing is impossible".