Ten years in my iCloud. Ten years in photos that I have accumulated, sometimes just piling them up. Ten years in which the space can’t take more and forces me to select, discard and walk through the galleries that occupy the gigabytes of my memories.

Today there is no free space for one more photo among those superficial or those formal pictures. And not by voluntary decision, rather by a matter of technological obligation, I decide to erase what is not necessary to save.

I review the inauguration of that chic office where I used to work, with all that exquisite decoration and as much coldness as unchanging falseness. Several duplicate photos and several spaces recovered after deleting them.

That trip to Rome, those Madrid events and that beach. They make me smile without nostalgia.

The images of my dog, those that make me stop an think in how much you can miss who is no longer changing the smile for watery eyes.

The Valencian, the Asturian, the American and others. Stories that were cheap cartoons although at the time they seemed extraordinary novels. Remove. Point blank. Sometimes you have to put everyone in their place.

Ten years in my iCloud. Ten years to review, to relocate. Gigabytes to keep, gigabytes to clean.

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Affirmative psychologist specialized in Anxiety and Emotional Regulation.

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