Ana María López
Panic enters like a dark twin that inhabits us or emerges from us. It is also a wound, a cut that opens in the back or chest of the protagonist, from where the monster that afflicts her emerges. We might think that it is a dark and depressing book. Quite the opposite: in Panic, music, corrosive humor and irony flow in the face of tragedy itself. Away from the solemnity and according to the strokes of each vignette, whoever opens these pages may find another, perhaps more festive, way to face adversity.
