The heart amidst songs and fog.

Andrés, at the tender age of live, radiated a sensitivity that few children his age possessed. In his small village in Spain, while other kids played football or chased each other in the square, Andrés found solace in the gentle melodies of old Spanish coplas. This music conveyed to him a peace that the external world often denied him.

For him, every musical note was like a hug, a caress that allowed him to take shelter from the storms that raged within him. Refractory epilepsy and his autism condition painted his days with unique challenges. 

The “fog”, as he used to call his epilepsy episodes, would occasionally cloud his world. It was a veil that temporarily distanced him from everything he loved. And once it dissipated, it left Andrés exhausted and in search of his musical refuge. 

However, what weighed on him the most wasn’t his medical conditions but rather the world’s lack of understanding. The curious stares, the whispers, and, worst of all, the laughter and mockery from some children who didn’t comprehend his reality. 

Fireworks, which usually illuminated the night sky of his village during festivals, were his worst enemy. What was a joyful spectacle for others was deafening noise for Andrés, plunging him into terror.

Despite it all, Andrés found points of light in his life. His mother, always his rock, filled him with love and understanding. And through they were few, there were those in the village who showed a kind and empathetic heart. Those moments of kindness, along with the sweet coplas that filled his home, gave Andrés the strength to face each new day. Because, in the end, he proved that love and music always found their way, even through the thickest fog. 

Andrés is the fictional name of two of our children who live with epilepsy and autism, primarily amidst a society that often prioritizes entertainment and traditions over the well-being of their neighbor.