In Mexico they knew me as Erik. In my twenties I reinvented myself in Madrid: I started introducing myself as Octavio, and there they called me Tavo. Madrid was my second city. In Mexico they still didn’t know who Tavo was.
I came back to Mexico in my thirties, with nothing, and started over. Erik. Tavo. Project manager. I reinvented myself again and mastered my fears. Then Hope arrived to remind me that life isn’t always the way you want it, but it always gives you hope.
A year later Max arrived, the little one of the house, to multiply the joys and the tantrums. And we went south. To the south of a continent: Buenos Aires, South America. From then on we started moving three at a time.
My career kept growing. With the pandemic I left that chapter behind to go looking for my vie en rose. What came next ended up opening my Pandora’s box. I fell lower than ever.
I had no time to feel sorry for myself or hide under the blankets and cry. I had to get Hope and Max to safety. We came back to Mexico in my forties.
Today I’m still here with them. I’m building HME84, picking up Las Voces del Sepulcro again, and developing tools to work with my images, my memories and my projects. I’m also still figuring out how to sustain my own life.