Books and music have a quiet but profound ability to heal. Through them, emotions and thoughts can be steadied, grief and longing given a place to go. Music, in particular, allows feelings to surface without needing words, while books open doors to worlds beyond our immediate reality.

I was fortunate to have a father who introduced me to books at a very young age, mostly against my will. At bedtime, he would tell stories while sitting on our beds, and through those moments, I learned to imagine worlds beyond what I could see. Eventually, stories led to books. Every Friday after school, he would take us to the Oxford bookstore in Madrid and let us choose a book to read over the weekend.

At first, I loved the smell of books more than the act of reading itself. But admiration can only go so far without engagement, and so I began to read. My sister was voracious; I was slow. Concentration has always been difficult for me and still is, but reading was planted deeply enough to take root. Over the years, I have read many great works by French, Italian, Russian, British, and American authors.

Now, at sixty, I realize just how well-read I am, especially when I see how many people never venture beyond school-assigned books. Reading has been a faithful companion, particularly for someone who tends toward solitude. Through books, I have traveled through time, lived a thousand lives, and found comfort in the realization that I am not alone. I have formed connections with authors that I have often struggled to make with people in real life.

Music has played a similarly vital role. I am drawn to melancholic melodies, and through them I have been able to channel my own sadness, process it, and find calm. Music, like books, allows for travel, this time within the mind. On long walks, music settles me, quiets my thoughts, and helps me confront my inner demons.

Books and music are essential parts of my life. Thanks to my father, I was given places to hide, explore, and heal, without ever leaving the sofa. They have helped me stay grounded, offered refuge from destructive thoughts, and reminded me, again and again, of the quiet power of art to save us.