JUST A WEEKEND

In a world governed by efficiency and pragmatism, Lluís lost himself among papers and numbers from Monday to Friday. He worked in a bank, his heart beating to the monotonous rhythm of transactions and financial operations. His environment couldn’t understand why he, with a stable salary and a rising career, didn’t show the happiness that was supposed to accompany that stability.

But Lluís knew the secret that kept him alive. His true passion was not found in sums and balances, but in the imposing rocks of the weekends. Every Friday, when the clock struck five, his heart raced not for the closing of transactions, but for the hope of imminent freedom. The moment was approaching to put away the suit and tie, and dress in climbing clothes, bright and flexible, almost like a second skin.

With his backpack on his shoulder, loaded with chalk, brushes, and climbing shoes, Lluís headed to the mountains. For him, rock walls were not just a physical challenge but an expression of his soul. Each route, each ascent, each measured step was a small victory against the daily routine. His goals were not measured in money or social recognition, but in the intensity of the emotion he felt when reaching a top.

The rocks of Fontainebleau, the boulders of Bishop, the cliffs of Rocklands. Each place, a new dream made of stone and silence. His life was a perfect dichotomy: the structured order of the bank and the controlled chaos of climbing.

One Saturday morning, while gripping a small crimp on a rock in Albarracín, he realized that true wealth lay in those small personal conquests. He had no need to prove anything to anyone but himself. In the mountains, there were no hierarchies, just man and stone.

Lluís knew he would never be famous or rich for what he did on the weekends. But when he closed his eyes each night, he felt a peace that no amount of money could buy. His happiness was intangible, made of dreams and efforts, and in that rocky world, he found his true freedom.