I had a place that was perfect for sharing with others. More than an office, it was a refuge where not only birds came and perched on the windows, but also students, sometimes silent and curious, looking for a book; other times noisy, looking for answers to a thousand questions. There, in that perfect place, we had the freedom to be, to dream, to build and tear down obsolete thoughts.

Due to the political situation in my country, Venezuela, a group of vandals destroyed that office and the entire place where I worked: the university. They not only destroyed offices, but also classrooms, laboratories, libraries, and gardens, simply because education is a very dangerous commodity, especially for authoritarian governments. In other words, that place no longer exists; it was destroyed. And although today, with everyone's collaboration, attempts have been made to rebuild that space, it is no longer the same: there are marks of destruction, brutality, and fear.

I am one of those people who believe that places are made by people: a place is what it is because of the people who inhabit it. A house is a home because of the family that lives in it. So I believe that that place, where there was freedom to dream and work for a good future, was destroyed, just as a generation that dreamed and fought for its future was destroyed. The generation that saw education as one of the surest ways to climb the social ladder, but also the simplest way to achieve our dreams.

Certainly, as an institution, the university exists. Now, a series of clean, new, shiny classrooms have been built, which welcome thousands of students every day. But it is not the same: the classrooms are made for teaching, not for sharing, nor for becoming attached to them. There are no offices for professors, no libraries, and no cafeterias. The idea of socializing outside the classroom seems unimportant, or at least no one is interested in it.

I had a place that was a refuge for me and many others. A place where people not only went to study, but also to build relationships. Today there is a void, and although that place no longer exists in reality, it still lives on in my memory, not as a memory, but as proof that building a paradise is indeed possible.