A mother and her two minor children were evicted this Monday from the home where they lived in El Toro, in the municipality of Calvià, in a case that, according to Stop Evictions Mallorca, was protected until a few months ago by the anti-eviction moratorium for vulnerable families included in the so-called social shield approved during the pandemic.

A family from Son Oliva has managed to postpone the eviction from the flat where they live for another week after filing a last-minute document with the court, as their assigned lawyer had not processed the request for provisional suspension of the eviction despite being asked to do so.

I am stretched out, on the beach, half reading, half looking around me, catching other stories in passing. A mother emerges from among the beach umbrellas, almost crawling on the sand, struggling to reach the front line, laden with everything. She is accompanied by her twins. It's not entirely clear who is dragging whom. But she lies down, defeated, on the towel, which she hasn't even bothered to straighten when she took it out of the bag. She hasn't taken off her clothes either. And I can see her bikini through her white, Ibizan-style blouse. She's also wearing some denim shorts that she has no intention of taking off. And some black XXL sunglasses, where the expression I'd like to decipher is hidden. The twins don't move much from her side. They lie around her, adoring her, like in a Sorolla painting. They touch her hair, resting their little heads on different parts of their mother's body, also looking at the sea, in silence. After a period of rest, the two girls start to stir and liven up. They put on their swimsuits and go for a swim. The mother shows no sign of movement, let alone concern. The fact that she doesn't feel any unease seeing her six or seven-year-old daughters go to the sea alone makes me think she has already saved them from something much more dangerous. Whatever it is, it has devastated her. I feel like I am witnessing the conclusion of a crusade, as if this moment were the last chapter of a long story, the scene just before the final credits.

I find remnants in my home of things that are half-finished. Small daily failures. The leggings and the running top that have been hanging in the bathroom for two weeks, optimistic. The vinegar and the rice paper wrappers I bought at the Japanese week at Lidl, convinced I would make Goi Cuon, fresh Vietnamese rolls. The three books started on the bedside table. The analog camera that I proposed to myself – once a month – to learn to use once and for all. A table, which was more than a table, it was an investment to do a lot of work on and earn a lot of money. Versions of myself that I can't decide on. I want to be all of them at once out of cowardice, because I don't believe enough in any of them.

It's hard to say if she was more of a Harry Potter fan—she'd queue up at bookstores whenever a new book in the series came out—or a Backstreet Boys fan—she saw them in concert not too long ago. She was always clowning around and loved imitating Betty la Fea (Ugly Betty). From a young age, she was part of the choir at the Teatre Principal in Palma, and when she wanted to study at the Institut del Teatre, no one was surprised: both her older brother and sister had already done so, so the path was already laid out for her. We're talking about the actress Esther López (Palma, 1986) with her sister, Mariaje.

This Friday at midday, the Stop Evictions platform in Mallorca attempted to prevent a woman and her two disabled children from being forced out of a ground-floor apartment on Sureda Street in Portocristo. According to sources from the group, the apartment they lived in had been reported by a neighbor who argued that it was a commercial space, not a residence. The contract they signed was for one year, renewable for up to five, "despite the fact that the law states it must be seven years when the landlord is a legal entity," the platform points out. After five years, the landlord reclaimed the apartment and, from then on, "didn't fix anything, neither the dampness nor other problems." Furthermore, the contract had been signed by the tenant's ex-partner, who has a restraining order against him and her two children. The group also denounces that the property owner "owns more than ten properties," a fact he allegedly "hidden" in the certificate attached to the lawsuit. They also suspect the possible "falsification" of a registry document. The woman didn't understand the dates of the eviction and the trial. "She was planning to attend the trial without a lawyer, unaware that she would be evicted before the trial for not having requested a public defender within the first three days after receiving the lawsuit," says the platform, which adds that the Social Services Department of the Manacor City Council "made an attempt in court" to stop the eviction with the family support case, but "the court ignored them." Helplessness

Catalan, as a Romance language, finds its origins in Latin. Clearly, the evolution of Latin was not uniform everywhere, and although, in the vernacular, many of the changes that led to the birth of the Romance languages we know today followed the same pattern, there were others that made a difference: regional variations that only occurred in a specific place; a similar form in various languages; or the influences of languages predating the expansion of the Roman Empire that left their mark and contributed to the consolidation of certain innovations. That said, why do we use 'tío' in Catalan to refer to someone's father's or mother's brother, but, on the other hand, when we have to talk about a sister we use 'tía'?'Why is the masculine form of this word not accepted in Catalan? It is clear that the origin of both words is not the same. Initially, in classical Latin we found the words 'avunculus' and 'amita' which were used with a much more restricted meaning and only designated the mother's brother and the father's sister, respectively. This is because in Classical Latin a distinction was made between the maternal and paternal lines, and therefore the words 'patrols' (father's brother) and 'matertera' (mother's sister). Later, in Vulgar Latin, 'avunculus' and 'amita' They adopted the meanings we currently assign to 'uncle' and 'aunt', that is, brother and sister of someone's father or mother.

Bea Oliver's pregnancy was perfect, "like a movie." "Everything was normal. No vomiting, not a single discomfort." Guiem was born and rushed out of the delivery room. Something wasn't right. She received no explanations, only uncertainty. Bea felt "very questioned" because they asked her repeatedly if she had used drugs during pregnancy. When she finally saw her son, "there wasn't a part of his body where he didn't have a wire." "I wanted to die. I just cried while I watched the woman next to me give birth to a completely healthy child. You never erase these moments from your mind. You just accept what you've been dealt. You live with it," she confesses.

The judicial commission has suspended an eviction scheduled for Tuesday morning for two families with a five-year-old child and a two-month-old baby living in a home in Rafal, Palma. According to Stop Evictions, the eviction has been suspended, although the reason is unknown and no new date has yet been announced. The eviction involves two families with children and a woman who is eight months pregnant.

We want to recommend a range of activities for the coming days, such as the film Beyond the Ice and Stars and the exhibition The City We Want, among others.