memoir
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“La noche que dejé de ser el mismo…”
Un recuerdo sobre miedo, juventud y el momento en que un primer beso dejó de ser solo un beso para convertirse en un cambio interior. Continue reading
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“My Liver, My Life, and the Hand That Measured It”
“Sitting in the parking lot after half a Chipotle bowl, replaying my doctor’s words: ‘Your liver can’t process cholesterol. This hand — this is your portion size now.’” Continue reading
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“Cheetos”Lunch Break, Cheetos, and Shame”“Cheetos”
A bag of Cheetos, a McLaren behind a dealership window, and a reflection I didn’t want to see. 2015 was the year I realized I wasn’t just tired — I was ashamed of who I had become. This is the memory that shook me awake. Continue reading
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“The Midnight Ice Cream Truck.”
Grand Theft Auto 3, East L.A., and a neighbor’s “ride” that didn’t need a key. Back in 2001–2002, I was an usher at Dodger Stadium. One of my coworkers, Arturo—Art—became my boy. Looked like a cholo (shaved head, mustache, heavyset) but he wasn’t; chill, funny, good dude. After late games I’d drive him home to… Continue reading
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“Many Men, One Ice Cart”
A quiet night. An ice cart. 50 Cent’s bodyguard yelling at me. Didn’t end how he expected. Back when I worked as a houseman at a hotel in Beverly Hills, every night brought something different. Celebrities, chaos, weird little moments that stuck. This one night, I was out by the bungalows. I was twenty-two, maybe… 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