Arrecife is gray, because it bids you farewell, Félix, with the weight of gratitude I want to honor your passage through life with words that last beyond silence. You were a Lanzaroteño at heart, one of those who existed to build bridges between dreams and realities. Leaving a mark: with your constant effort, like a worker ant, you were an essential part of something bigger. You carved invisible paths, cultivated respect, sowed community. Like an ant, you had that tireless strength. You took it upon yourself to pile up earth, stone by stone, and thus you built small great revolutions. Thanks to you, today there are people who read stories that otherwise would not exist, words that circulate wherever you wanted to take them. And above all, thanks to you, there are people who write and have dared to write from a remote place in the world, Lanzarote, where writing seemed a utopia. I remember you as my first editorial godfather, being a beacon, a door, and a bridge. You introduced me with tenderness, conviction, confidence. And I will be grateful to you. Today your departure is a blow of sadness, but I celebrate your existence. Ants do not die when their steps cease; their work persists in the mounds they build, in the paths they mark. You leave us a mound of community. A road of hope on which many will walk. Rest, Félix. May the trade wind be gentle with you, the sun of your land, and the strength of every ant you sowed accompany you.