It's made of Umberto Tozzi. But let's go back: she was born in a house of onions, so she had to be an onion, yes or yes. From a very young age she showed interest in drawing and today it is her way of "unfolding". She played with Nancys, but she often exchanged them for her little brother Pau's Airgam Boys, with whom there is a four-year age difference. It is he who brings us closer to the figure of his older sister, politician Xisca Mora Veny (1971). She recently left the mayor's office of Porreres, her hometown, after 13 years.

In an 80-square-meter apartment in Madrid Square, six people lived: four siblings, mother, and father. At times, the grandmother was also there. It was a noisy house with a large terrace, and while some were returning from high school, a baby was crying. There is a 14-year age difference between the eldest brother and the youngest in the house. “It surprises me how, in the middle of that chaotic house, full of shouts and playing children, Pep could read, completely absorbed. He had a brutal capacity for concentration, it was as if he escaped.” Pep is Josep Ramon Cerdà (Palma, 1971), a playwright and professor. His younger sister, Margalida, known on social media as Madò Llucia, introduces us to him.

Marc comes to my 'functional' training class. At some point, 'functional' became a word to refer to a type of physical exercise and we all accepted it. It sounds strange to me. 'Functional' sounds to me like 'the minimum you can do to get by in life'. I'd like to know why it is, functional. Does it make you functional? I understand it does, that you get strong to be functional as a human being. Which is the reason I signed up for it. To have some strength, in the future, to be autonomous, control my sphincters and not defecate on myself after giving birth (if I ever do), for example, or to be able to carry milk cartons and not need the help of these children I will have given birth to. I don't know. I don't know why I think about it in terms of motherhood. The thing is, if I don't do anything about it, my musculature will start to detach more and more from my bones, until it becomes totally dysfunctional. Now I see it that way, in practical terms. But for a long time it wasn't like that: it was in aesthetic terms that I thought about it. And I feel sorry that Marc ends up experiencing the same thing.

Today's protagonist has a magnetism and personality that make him difficult to approach. He is as quick to approach people as he is to distance himself, as quick to dazzle and charm you as he is to weigh you down. A lifelong friend will tell us about him, one of those you start to relate to by kicking a ball around the schoolyard as the adolescent sun rises: one of those who know you so well that they are even a little afraid to talk about you. The protagonist is the artist Albert Pinya (Palma, 1985), and Francesc Becerra, whom he has known since kindergarten, brings us closer to his most unknown story: "Back then, Albert was already a very friendly person, although he also had an introverted side." Contradictions accompany us throughout these lines.

He was a blond little piglet with very light eyes; calm and easy to handle. His favorite toy has always been a soccer ball. In fact, soccer is his great passion. And Barça. At some point, he "dreamed of being a soccer player." Until he was almost an adult, he played for different teams, such as Sallista, Constancia, and Murer. As a teenager, he even refereed. He shares the name (uncommon in the Canary Islands) of his godfather from Ciudad Real, where his father is from, Inocente Moreno. We're talking about Virgilio Moreno Sarrió, who has been the mayor of Inca for over a decade under the PSOE banner. His mother, Maria Sarrió, reveals a lesser-known side of him.

A bacterial infection complicated his birth in November 1983, an illness that severely hampered his childhood. Nothing, however, prevented that boy from Palma, who spent entire summers and weekends in Can Picafort, from running joyfully over the rugged rocks by the coast and being a restless soul, constantly darting up and down the beach with his cousins, a good-sized group of mischievous kids: "They grew up in a community, above all, a community, above all, a community of people. They'd come out of the water with a splash." One of those mischievous cousins ​​is the visual artist Joan Aguiló, and his partner, the actress Catalina Inès Florit, tells us about him. They met amidst the blue and sand hues of summer. Joan is four years older than Catalina, but they've known each other all their lives because their godparents were neighbors on the same terrace in Can Picafort—in this town, the terraces open onto the street, a feature that fosters close relationships with neighbors. "We grew up together, along with his cousins. His paternal godmother, for me, was Aunt Ángela," says Catalina, who as a child saw Joan as "the nice older cousin." Over the years, Joan began to amuse her and her friends: "We were teenagers and he was studying Fine Arts in Barcelona. He had long hair and a bohemian air about him," she recounts, and remembers that, "between his long hair and the fact that he was very thin, my brother called him Jesus Christ."

When she was little, she loved pencil sharpeners so much that she said when she grew up she wanted to be one. "Nintendo and Game Boy game tester." She was terrified of animals—"it's quite frightening"—but that changed when Boira, a little dog, came home at age twelve, transforming her fear into affection. She belongs to the generation of young girls who started wandering around town with a digital camera, taking "photoshoots" and then posting them on Fotolog and Tuenti. There's a strange balance in her daily life: a combination of stage fright and embarrassment with the excitement and joy of telling stories to an audience, whether young or old. We're talking about Maria del Mar Coll (Muro, 1994), actress, screenwriter, presenter, and comedian. She tells us how small her mother, Martina Ferriol, was.

He says of him that, as a teenager, he was "fun, chatty, funny, and a really good person." They would go out for walks after dark to some of Palma's classic bars: Es Carreró, Sa Font. Sometimes they would also go to Gomila: "And he would chat with everyone, he was very articulate, and he would go from group to group meeting people. Now perhaps he's lost a little of his charm, but he's still a sweetheart," says Pedro Moll, one of the friends the journalist—winner of the Ciutat de Palma novel prize—still keeps in touch with from his teenage years, laughing throughout the conversation. They grew up in Palma and didn't live far from each other: Jaume Oliver lived in the neighborhood near the bullring, and Pedro lived near Blanquerna. Since they became friends in the schoolyard (they weren't in the same class because Jaume is a year older than Pedro), they spent many evenings together. Pedro recounts that the now writer and journalist used to play hockey, in the version that is without skates (but with stickThey played volleyball together for a while, but that didn't last long either. What they did enjoy together was hiking, but don't think they went out every week: "Out of every ten times we got together, one ended up being a hike. It wasn't like it is now. We could improvise much more: the mountain huts were open, you didn't have to book, you could be more adventurous. We'd make it last longer," the friend recalls.

He was born on November 22, 1984, at eight months gestation, and before arriving home (first in Inca and, a few years later, in Caimari) he had to spend almost a month in an incubator. His mother remembers those moments with sadness: "After four or five days I went back to work so I could enjoy my maternity leave when the baby was home," she notes. It was just before Christmas that year that the family was able to properly welcome their son. The son, who was so tiny it was almost pitiful, is the writer, poet, translator, and contributor to this weekly publication, Jaume C. Pons AlordaHis mother, Teresa Alorda, tells us about him. Six years later, she had her second daughter, Gloria.

Who hasn't found themselves in the situation of asking a child or young person something and receiving, almost systematically, a rude response, as if they were constantly angry? This attitude always stems from some underlying situation, and it only takes a little digging to understand the cause and how to address it. As Laura Aut, psychologist and director of the Psilaut center, points out, it's important to understand that every expression from children is meant to convey something: it's a reaction and, often, a way of communicating a need, even if it's done inappropriately.

When he was born in December 1960, there were only two television channels. Before discovering and falling in love with the Tramuntana mountain range, he explored the Ports de Tortosa-Beseit. As a teenager, he joined his village's hiking club, and they would go on trips to the Pyrenees. We travel to the Baix Ebre region, in the municipality of Tortosa, to learn about the origins of Jaume Carot, the physicist and current rector of the University of the Balearic Islands, the third of four siblings. Before him came the twins Tomàs and Maria Cinta; the youngest was Elena, who lends her voice to these memories.

Being the youngest in the family, she was destined to inherit her sisters' clothes. The situation frustrated her a bit; everyone wants to wear something new, and she couldn't: "To make her happy, Mom took her to buy shoes just for her: she chose red shoes, with studs, in the Sevillian style. She was small, but so determined that neither Mom nor the saleswoman at the shop could count her out." This determination is one of the traits she most highlights about her sister, whom she describes as more of a shy and quiet doll.

She was more into Blur than the Spice Girls; more into Oasis than Britney Spears (although she did play the occasional song by both). The explanation is simple, and anyone familiar with the scene will understand: when she started going out on weekends, she frequented the Plaça de sa Pobla bar, a hangout for young people from Sa Pobla and other nearby towns. Within the walls of this bar, Magdalena Serra (Sa Pobla, 1983), a journalist and presenter of the program... Now we're going From IB3, she danced to the songs of Blur, Oasis and REM, and made the song her own. At dawn from The Rebel Strawberries. They sang it at the top of their lungs with their friend Maria Bel Cladera, who brings us closer to the journalist's childhood and adolescence.

The music played loudly and reached every room of the house: from Raimon and Maria del Mar Bonet in Los Suaves, to Metallica and Scorpions. "It must be because we had music playing all the time that he's picked up our musical tastes, especially his father's," says Antònia Artigues, mother of film director Jaume Carrió (Esporles, 1983). "When he was 12 or 13, we went to see Los Suaves and he burst into tears during the concert. He's a very sensitive child. He also cries at the movies. Even today, if we go to see a film together and he gets emotional and I don't, he looks at me and says: Fuck"Mom."

On May 7, 1992, Antònia Riutort's second child was born by cesarean section: "A happy baby boy, who laughed all the time. But he was quite mischievous and very restless!" recalls his mother, who says that her son has never called her "Mom": "Even now, he calls me 'Mommy'." When he was nine months old, Riutort realized something: "One day, somewhere, the song..." And will always love you by Whitney Houston. The boy made a sad face and his chin started to tremble. He was in shock and very emotional." The boy who was moved by Whitney Houston's voice and music is musician and producer Juanjo Monserrat (from Arenal de Llucmajor), "a perfectionist who doesn't want to lose even at Parcheesi."

"Black whore," "go back to your country," "you're my slave," "you're burned out"... these are some of the verbal attacks that Nana, Astou, and Mariama, third-year secondary school students, regularly hear from their classmates. The families of these three young women came to Mallorca from Senegal and Mali, and not a day goes by without someone reminding them of their foreign origins. "Being looked down upon because of the color of my skin makes me feel terrible," says Astou, while her friends nod in agreement. The three say they often protest the racism they endure and lament that, on many occasions, "the teachers don't pay any attention." "It's the same every year, and it's not our fault," Mariama asserts, and Nana proudly adds that, sometimes, protesting does work: "Last year, a classmate was suspended for a few days because he called me 'black.'" However, even the perception of students who respond to the aggression is problematic. “A young person of color is labeled as violent at the first sign of resistance, and that doesn’t happen to a young white person,” says Aliou, a first-year high school student of Senegalese and Venezuelan descent. Aliou asserts that racism “has multiplied among young people,” although outside of school, without the supervision of the teaching staff, “it’s harsher and more direct.” “The far right has a discourse that appeals to many classmates, and they say it without any problem,” he adds. This young man also points out that more could be done in schools and emphasizes the importance of individual and social context in such a complex issue: “White people who have never had problems often don’t notice certain behaviors,” he says.

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.

He was a wonderful child, a perfect child: he never lied, he was calm and polite, everything went well for him, he was happy. When he was scolded, very occasionally, he would refer to himself in the third person, we are told. He was born when his mother was 20 and his father 23, and they say that they would take him to the disco and the baby would remain peacefully dozing in his stroller. He ate well, studied and got good grades, he was quite good at soccer (which has been his passion and obsession all his life) and he enjoys playing the piano. Being a journalist was one of his childhood dreams and, almost without realizing it, he must be celebrating twenty years in the profession. He is Pedro Sánchez (Palma, 1985) and his sister, Neus Sánchez, who is seven years younger than him, tells us about him.

In the 1980s, in Morlanda (Manacor), summers dragged on, and daily life was so repetitive that you could even get bored. The streets weren't paved, and for a few years, the area remained untouched by the voracious transformation sweeping through Mallorca. There, amidst pottery, ball games, toy cars, and a few Beatles songs, the musician Miquel Serra grew up happily, along with his older brother, Joan Serra, and Joan Pasqual, who was responsible for putting words to Miquel's childhood.

The year is 1965. Sunday, October 10th. It's a radiant, sunny autumn day. And their joy is complete when the Salord and Ripoll family, from Ciutadella, receives the news that the youngest of five siblings has arrived: the now well-known writer Maite Salord and Ripoll. The little girl came just as her eldest brother, Pedro, 17 years her junior, was leaving the island to study in Barcelona. Fina Salord, the middle sister, 10 years her junior and with whom she shares a passion for literature and philology, tells us about the youngest member of the family's childhood.