Bro, it’s the buzzword of the week. Gen Z and Gen Alpha: that’s the main circle where it’s used quite naturally as an everyday form of address (equivalent to the classic *tío* or *colega* in Spain) —J. Ré
“Skeptical boredom is the fundamental attitude of many young people. As the German expert Anselm Grün has written, ‘they are incapable of surrendering themselves to something, of getting excited about something’: They cannot live in the moment. To feel alive, they must constantly experience something new” (p. 115, *Pensar en libertad* by Jaime Nubiola)
—Bro… you’re emotionally attached to your dog. I notice you sitting in the bar with him in your arms, drinking coffee and smoking.
I see thousands of humans every day—walking, chatting, carrying their dogs in their arms. It seems the world can no longer be understood without that bond with your animal counterpart. And that they alone are the faithful companions to our solitude.
Does being alone scare us that much?
It’s a dance many humans shy away from; their companions appear as the only ones willing to listen to our monologues. Because sometimes we talk to ourselves, and it’s not the same as having someone who looks at you, makes little noises, and jumps up as if you were the only one in the galaxy who mattered to them.
This weekend, I attended several family gatherings. Each one had a framework, rules, and—arising from their dialogue—certain pacts. When you are connected to them but simultaneously observe that you are distant, that’s when these personal impressions emerge—regarding how they’re doing, what they feel, and their agreements. In some of these family groups, the bond is more intimate; and although you are welcomed with joy, you notice you are outside a circle they have established.
—Bro, are you on the path to establishing pacts?
—Yes.
—What do you expect, Bro, from your dreams—do you get me, Bro?
—Not being tied to an animal, Bro.
Notes:
Note from J. Ré Crivello’s digital brain (you can query it here using phrases or questions)
Family alliances are a recurring theme in the work of Juan Ré Crivello, appearing across at least two very different registers.
In *Letters to Life* (2026), he explicitly revisits the question «How does one forge family alliances?» and admits to having experienced every variation: «those that fade away, those that grow stronger, those cultivated to be effective, those born of silence, and those born of terror.»
Then there is the essayistic and critical register: in *La aldea líquida* (2020), he analyzes how the dissolution of the traditional family model—cousins, aunts and uncles, siblings, grandparents—has given way to «liquid,» shifting alliances that are often colonized by manipulative personalities. And in *Sacred Town* (2025), he extends this reflection into the future, considering small families, weak alliances, and the gradual replacement of these bonds with an alliance between *Sapiens* and robots.

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