There was a time when it was not the children nor the families who chose schools. It was the school that chose them. We are talking about a Mallorca that no longer exists, but which still beats in the memories of those who lived it and in the windmills of the houses of that time that dare to remain upright amidst the disorder and haste of today.

A few days ago I was talking with a good friend who had just returned from a trip to Argentina and Chile. We were talking about the 'countries' Argentinians, these gated, guarded, and secure communities that the upper-middle classes have had to build to feel safe in a country where the fracture caused by inequality translates not only into a considerable crime rate, although it has been decreasing, but also into a perception of insecurity that persists despite these measures. The explanation is simple, as my friend pointed out to me: the rich are afraid. They don't live in their ivory towers, exclusive apartment complexes, and luxury penthouses for aesthetic reasons—or at least not only for that—but because they are terrified.