one story to my son

- One day there was a little blue house in the middle of a beautiful landscape. All you could see was divided in two parts: the house, and kilometres and kilometres of high mountains. A little man called James lived in that special country where everybody had a secret. Yes, that was the particular thing in there: the mystery. That's not an horror story, and that's not an strange one either. My little baby, that's just life. Some years ago, James went to the closest city in there and bought a book written by a famous writer, his first book. But he knew her father didn't want him to read because he said that when he stopped working and sat down in the grass to put his eyes on that fantastic words, he wasted time, and if he wasn't reading, he could be helping his mother in the kitchen, for example. Therefore, little James decided not to tell anyone about the book he had hidden under his bed, and night by night he pretended being asleep when his parents went to bed, and then he switched on the light, and read ten or eleven pages, which were a chapter more or less. And, in that way, James created his own secret. And he smiled every time he thought about it.
Most stories would finish with James' mum looking for anything under the bed and founding the book. And then, you know, it would come the argument between the mother and the son, and all this kind of things. But in life, my little baby, people lie and they are not caught so I'll tell you what really happened: James has lived all his life with books under his bed, getting back to the city every month and buying a new one. His life always has had a secret, his own secret, and nobody has looked under the bed, and nobody has seen him reading at high hours at night. And he has never told the truth because, although mum and I say to you that you have to tell us everything, actually you don't.
So now you are asleep and perhaps I'm lucky because I don't know what you'd do if you had listened all this, but always remember you have to dream, and to have illusions, and save your secrets only for you. Because they will be one of the most important things in your life, my baby. Perhaps the only one thing which is really yours.
Now I'm going, that's my story for tonight. Good night, James.-

(And the little baby, who had been sleeping since the story had started, opened an eye and said: "Good night, dad")



And here you have one of the stories I told my son when he was a little baby. Now he's thirty-two. It's possible I tell you more one day, but not them all because they are the secret between him and I.