All English translations are done as honestly as possible by a non-native speaker. However, if there are any mistakes, please feel free to comment. 🇪🇦  spanish version The rules of Urbexing: "Never go alone" "Take nothing with you except your photos" "Leave nothing behind except your footprints" "Don't break anything to get in" "Never run"        -But are you serious? asks Rodri without giving credit to his dolled-up sister Happy Panda.      -And so I am, says the influencer without hesitation. It all started a few months ago. Computer screens turning on and off in the early hours of the morning when I woke up for work at around 11am, cryptic messages on my mobile phone that made no sense at all, a series of numbers and letters in response to my Instagram posts instead of likes. At first, I didn't think anything of it. People envy my life, you know, and they don't know how to give me shit, it pisses them off that I'...

  🟥🟨🟥Spanish version RUFINO'S CHRISTMAS STORY "On Christmas Eve there are more ghosts in my house than in the cemeteries".      A miserly, stingy, lonely and selfish man called Ebenezer Scrooge doesn't feel like celebrating Christmas. It's an invention of Harrods, I think he says. On a cold, dreary Christmas night he has a terrible nightmare. In it he is visited by ghosts and is transported to his past, present and future, seeing that the outlook is very unflattering. When he wakes up, he becomes a generous and kind man, who celebrates Christmas and helps those around him with his heart. And also, because he has seen the wolves coming, what the hell.     And that's what I wanted to get to.     This happened to me one Christmas Eve when I was more cooked than the prawns in a paella and I told it to that Dickens fellow, a little hack writer, who shamelessly appropriated the story of sleepless night for his novel. He misrepresented it all with a ...

  🟥🟨🟥Spanish version I miss my mother. I miss her very much. She had a strength that I never had. She's the one who pulled me and my brother through, all by herself. Without any help. Working all hours and finding time, I don't know how, to be with us, helping us with our classes, taking us on excursions or whatever was we needed. Oblivious to the sacrifice of any excursion, we were always in the car, travelling somewhere. The mountains, the zoo, the cinema at Madrid, the beach or visiting another nearby city; anything but staying at home. The only good thing my father did for us, when he left us, was to give up the car. That Seat 124 took us everywhere that the meagre capital my mother managed to earn by combining two jobs allowed. As there was never enough money, my mother never changed car in her life. The 124 underwent every possible repair during its lifetime. My mother died eight years ago, but I still dream about her. When I talk about it with my brother, he tells me...

  REBELLION IN SANTA CLAUS' WORKSHOP     The elf Fingus was sick to death of Christmas, Santa Claus, Rudolph the reindeer and his damn mother. Every year it was the same. Bursting to work 16 hours in a huge workshop at the North Pole in semi-slavery conditions. The workshop wasn't even called bucolic and beautiful. You've been told it's a magical place where only six or so elves work, singing most of the day, making toys surrounded by exquisite Christmas decorations, handmade Christmas trees, nativity scenes, wreaths, decorated garlands and all the rest of it. Well, no. You don't even know the names of those wonderful elves. The workshop is a huge dark factory with multiple assembly lines where more than two hundred anonymous elves work their backsides off making toys piece by piece. In such miserable conditions that there are many accidents and sick leave, such as lumbagos, trapped hands, falling pallets of stuffed animals on their feet... Production cannot stop. ...