“Everyone who comes to Mallorca and wants to take a typical souvenir: let them take a cyclist, there are many... To a whore's house, the bicycle!”. This is how Lluc Aparicio (@parisioproductions) ironically states in an Instagram video that has over 26,700 likes and nearly 10,000 shares. The publication accumulates hundreds of comments, some very harsh. “There are always people who get angry, but I don't want to pay attention to them. They criticize me if I talk about tourist saturation and also if I speak Catalan, but they are people who don't understand that I'm doing humor,” he explains.

Toni Horrach is a historian and has a master's degree in Ethics and Democracy, but he has built a career on social media with Cas Horrach (@cas.horrach), a project that analyzes Majorcan identity through humor, parody, spontaneity, and with the accent of his native Campanet as its flag. He has accumulated over 35,000 followers on Instagram and over 15,000 on TikTok. In this interview, he talks about his beginnings, the conditions under which content creators work, and his view on current affairs.

Toc de Campana Santa Margalida has taken advantage of Pride Month to advocate for the visibility of the LGTBIQ+ community on social networks from the municipality. The communication space has published several videos with messages focused on the need to name identities, defend bisexuality, and remember that coming out of the closet should not be a justification, but a way to be and love freely.

Albert Xamena is a biochemist, neuroscience student, and content creator. On Instagram, he already exceeds 11,000 followers thanks to Entre Fones i Neurones, a Catalan-language outreach project where he combines science, history, art, and thought from the Balearic Islands. He has achieved this popularity without insulting people in 50-second videos with split screens and hundreds of stimuli, but with an educational and calm space. In this interview, he reflects on algorithms, mental health, scientific dissemination, and the role of social networks in today's society.

In linguistics, noise is any interference, barrier, or disturbance that distorts, alters, or prevents the correct transmission and reception of a message between sender and receiver. In a way, we can say that noise is an alteration of the communication channel, so that the message cannot reach correctly from the sender to the receiver. A door in the middle of two rooms is noise. Lack of phone coverage when we are in Son Macià is noise. A parallel conversation at a table of people dining that sounds louder than your own is noise. Cataracts in the eyes that make it difficult for us to read a message on a screen could even be considered noise.

In discussing linguistic landscape, we refer to the language –or languages– present on street signs, shop windows, restaurant menus displayed outside, or ephemeral signage, such as announcements of cultural events or papers stuck on street furniture offering domestic services. The study of the linguistic landscape was inaugurated in 1997 with the English article by Landry and Bourhis, which in Catalan would be Linguistic Landscape and Ethnolinguistic Vitality: An Empirical Study. These authors use the term to analyze the visibility and relevance of languages in shops and advertisements, based on the observation of written linguistic uses in the public space of Quebec. Their fundamental contribution was to consider geographical space as another domain of linguistic use, that is, as a platform for the sociolinguistic study of languages. Subsequently, the study of the physical landscape was joined by the sound linguistic landscape, which expands the concept to encompass everything that is heard in urban centers. Who among us has not stopped to listen, walking through the streets of Palma or our town, to notice which languages are spoken there? Sometimes, you smile inwardly with joy when you hear young people speaking good Catalan on Sant Miquel street.

A few days ago, the parliamentary majority decided to repeal the Democratic Memory Law, which I had the honor of drafting in my final days as a member of parliament. This text enjoyed broad consensus at the time, including the support of the People's Party (PP) on many points, as had previously occurred with the Law on Mass Graves. It's hard to accept that laws that come late, but which nevertheless seek to provide truth, justice, and reparations, as the memory movement has always demanded, can be overturned so easily. I also find it difficult to accept these changes in position by parties that aspire to govern for a social majority, in less than a decade.

Ordering a Glovo, a matcha tea, and having brunch are some of the typical phrases you'd never use if you weren't from Palma. This is according to the Ximbomba Agency's account, whose video encourages people to share sayings that aren't commonly heard in smaller towns.

It's two in the afternoon. In Plaça del Tub, in the center of Palma, hundreds of students leave the Ramon Llull and Joan Alcover high schools almost simultaneously. It's a moment that repeats itself every day and has become a ritual. Since the Ministry of Education banned the use of mobile phones inside schools, many young people carry them hidden in their backpacks and, as soon as they cross the threshold, they hurriedly turn them on. In a few seconds, their eyes are glued to the screen to check dozens—or hundreds—of notifications. They walk in groups, but with their phones in hand and their eyes glued to their devices. Perhaps, in a few weeks, this scene might cease to be so common.

It's two in the afternoon. In Plaça del Tub, in the center of Palma, hundreds of students leave the Ramon Llull and Joan Alcover high schools almost simultaneously. It's a moment that repeats itself every day and has become a ritual. Since the Ministry of Education banned the use of mobile phones inside schools, many young people carry them hidden in their backpacks and, as soon as they cross the threshold, they hurriedly turn them on. In a few seconds, their eyes are glued to the screen to check the dozens—or hundreds—of pending notifications. They walk in groups, but with their phones in hand and their eyes glued to their devices. Perhaps, in a few weeks, this scene might cease to be so common.

Every week, when I sit down to write this section, I do so with the latest article still fresh, recently published. I share it, and my personal torture begins. We are healthy children of the internet and social media, so I can't help but measure my effort by clicks, messages, likesShares. I analyze my work through the eyes of others. And I make an effort to ensure this doesn't stifle my writing; that it doesn't dictate the rhythm of the keys in the next installment. I write each new article as if it should be the last. Every week, I start with a clean slate. And yet, I survive another week. Without remembering that the previous week was exactly the same.

On this straight, arrow-shaped line that is life, any invitation to stop and look back becomes a disturbing experience. We rush so fast toward the future that we forget it's with that same speed that we move away from the present and leave the past behind. And I no longer know if it's deliberate: to avoid having time to consider whether we've made a mistake, because we don't know exactly who we are or what we want, for fear of having taken the wrong shortcut at some point and not knowing how to retrace our steps. Or perhaps this is the only pace to get there. The fact is, at least for me, my relationship with time is becoming increasingly dysfunctional.

Saint Honorat is the patron saint of Algaida. We don't know if it was the erroneous speech by the parish priest of Llucmajor last year at the solemn mass for Saint Honorat's Day, in which he confused Saint Honorat of Amiens with Saint Honorat of Arle, the patron saint of Algaida. But the fact is that these days an Instagram account has appeared with the title Sant Honorat Patró (Saint Honorat Patron) that aims to promote, publicize, and provide information about the figure of Algaida's patron saint and the winter festival itself.