đ Goya Diaries: The New Neighbour
- Goya Languages

- Aug 6
- 4 min read
Updated: Sep 10
Chapter 1
By Goya Languages

Part 1
One week ago, I opened the door of my flat and I found a letter on the floor. It was from the new neighbor in 3B. I didnât know her yet, but the letter seemed important. It said:
âHi, Iâm your neighbour. I want to tell you something, but I canât write it down here.
She asked me to come over to her flat that same evening.
âWhatever this is, it must be serious âI thought.
When I got there, the door of 3B was slightly open. I knocked, but no one answered.
âHello? âI said.
I stepped in. The flat was silent. I started to think: Should I leave? But whoever this woman was, she had written to me. So maybe she really needed something.
Then I saw her sitting next to the window.
She was an old woman, with grey eyes and a mysterious smile.
âYouâre Goya, arenât you? âshe asked.
âYes, I am. âI said nervouslyâ. Nice to meet you. I saw your letter. Is everything ok? What did you want to tell me?
âSomething you will never forget.
That sentence stayed in my mind. Never forget. It sounded like the beginning of something big.
I tried to stay calm, but I was nervous. She smiled.
âCome in for a moment, please âshe said.
I hesitated, but there was something in her voice. It made me trust her, even though I didnât know her. Somehow, it felt like she had been waiting for me forever.
I walked in, not knowing wherever this strange visit would lead me.

Part 2
The flat was dark, with only one lamp shaped like a moon. It smelled like incense and old books. There was a carpet on the floor with strange symbols.
She gave me a cup of tea.
âBlack tea with cinnamon âshe saidâ. I know you like it.
âHow do you know that?
âBecause youâre like me.
I felt a shiver down my spine.
âDonât be afraid. I just need your help with something small. Something that has returned.
âWhat has returned? âI asked.
âThe mirror. Your grandmotherâs mirror.
I was speechless.
That mirror, with its golden oval frame, hadnât been in my home for years. The last time I saw it was the night my grandmother died. She left it for me with a note:
âDonât look too long. Sometimes it shows more than it should.
I was scared, so I wrapped up the mirror and threw it away in the farthest container I could find. I never wanted to see it again.
âWe found it âthe neighbour said, opening a door at the backâ. Itâs here.
I went in. The room was small, with red walls, old clocks, and no windows. The mirror was on a table in the center.
It looked just like I remembered, but this time, when I looked, I didnât see my reflection.
I saw my grandmother.
She was sitting in her armchair, knitting. She looked up, smiled, and said:
âIt's about time.
I felt something warm inside. It wasnât fearâit was peace.
âWhat does this mean? âI asked.
âIt means you are ready.
âReady for what?
She shrugged.
âThat, youâll discover yourself.
I went home, confused. I didnât sleep well. I dreamed about clocks with no time and hallways that never ended.
But in the morning, something felt different. I felt lighter, like I had left behind a heavy bag I didnât know I was carrying. I made coffee, sat by the window, and the silence didnât feel empty anymore.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. It was still meâbut somehow, I was also someone new.
I donât know what it means to be like her. But now I know Iâm not afraid of the future. Whatever comes, I will face it. Whoever I become, Iâll be okay. Whenever life surprises me, Iâll be ready. And Iâll keep growing, wherever that path takes me.
Now, my neighbour and I meet every Wednesday at 4 p.m. for a cuppa. Her name is Maruja. Sheâs a widow, and her two sons live far awayâin Australia and Canada. They call her sometimes, but she feels lonely most days.
Thanks to that strange mirrorâand maybe to my grandmotherâshe is not so alone anymore.
And me? Iâve learned that there are people, whoever they are, who just need someone to talk to.
THE END
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Text: Goya Languages
Editing: Goya Languages
Pictures: Goya Languages
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