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Spent the afternoon slipping quietly through New York’s rhythm—just me, my reflection, and a city that never pauses. From glassy corners to tourist stalls, everything felt a little loud, a little tender. There’s something grounding about being alone in a place that never really belongs to anyone. I come from Madrid, where warmth clings to the streets, but today I let the cold pulse of this city guide me. Wandering without a map, collecting little pieces of stillness in a world that never really stops moving.
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Over the course of the Israel-Hamas war, aid groups have warned of impending famine for Gaza’s more than two million people, and the enclave’s most vulnerable civilians — the young, the old and the sick — are bearing the brunt. A third of the population has not eaten for multiple days in a row, the UN’s World Food Program said this week.

“There is no one in Gaza now outside the scope of famine, not even myself,” said Dr. Ahmed al-Farra, who leads the pediatric ward at Nasser Hospital in southern Gaza. “I am speaking to you as a health official, but I, too, am searching for flour to feed my family.” He also said that the number of children dying of malnutrition had risen sharply in recent days.

Visuals by @saher_alghorra

🔗 nytimes

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3PM, somewhere between the lull of the afternoon and the world still humming around me. I wandered without rushing — from soft sheets to quiet streets, where fruit carts pass and old walls whisper thoughts louder than they should. No plan, just me collecting moments that mine.

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Wearing red, I let the night take the lead. The air in Café Havana was thick with rhythm, the kind that moves through you before you even hear it. Somewhere between the sway of my hips and the echo of laughter, I lost track of time — and loved every second of it. Colombia gave me music, heat, and a memory I’ll be replaying long after the lights dim. Captured in passing, felt in full.
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