family
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Then He Was Gone 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
A puff of smoke rises from the grid of South Central L.A. Let it swirl — a signal, a ghost, a memory finding its way back through time. This story takes place in a faraway place — where casino lights never sleep, and the call girls wander the desert nights of Las Vegas, looking for… Continue reading
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“Two Brothers, Hollywood Night”
📓 Monday, October 6, 2025 – 2:51 p.m. Last night, a bit past ten o’clock, my younger brother Victor asked me to drive. He wanted to see Hollywood at night. Hollywood streets were half closed under construction — flashing cones, neon bleeding against cracked sidewalks. I drove while he sat in the passenger seat, watching… Continue reading
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“Sitting in Distress”
📓Friday, October 3, 2025 — 1:59 p.m. I’m sitting in the dark, watching a UFO whistleblower on Jeremy Corbell’s YouTube channel. Outside, my white GMC van waits with its hood up, as my neighbor replaces the brake power booster. He’s the man I call the Cartel Mechanic — a Mexican with pit bull eyes, a… Continue reading
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The Record Don’t Change 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
Somewhere between deliveries. PHOTOGRAPHY BY ME South Central Los Angeles. A long way from the dream they project on movie screens. You can hear the crackling of the lit celluloid — projecting outwards, telling us what it wants us to see. Hollywood sells. Oh, it sells. Palm trees. Blondes. Fortune. La La Land. La La… Continue reading
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“Throw the ink over and over till there is art.”
📓 Sunday, August 17, 2025 — 7:37 p.m. I got home a bit ago. Closed the door. I’m sitting in the dark—TV glow the only light. Like the glow inside a cave. My cave. YouTube chatter hums. The low drone of the A/C. Finally, I’m here in my chair. This chair… my escape. The spot where… Continue reading
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First Kiss Remembered
Written and illustrated by Roberto Sánchez From my memoir-in-progress, “I Am He” The bathroom light was too white — the kind that stings your eyes. My father’s favorite color. His mistress. To me, white has always felt like emptiness. I stood in that glare, facing a trifold mirror. Tilted the side panels to catch my… Continue reading
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“Asthma tried to take my breath — so I learned to breathe life back.”
A story about memory, sickness, and survival. Written and illustrated by Roberto Sánchez 📓 August 11, 2025 — 2:52 p.m., Monday The MacBook Pro beside me still looks brand new. I remember when I only dreamed of owning one. I take care of things — at least I try. Right now, I’m parked at the… Continue reading