That Cold Skin, by Albert Sánchez Piñol, I liked it a lot... you must already know that well. I, with the dry stone walls of Ireland or the bad weeds of the rectangle, feel like I am learning to coach. To live, perhaps. With Victus, also by Albert, I feel something very similar: in the Spherical Room I see the expression of the role a coach believes they have in relation to their team.
As I told you a while ago, the main character of Cold Skin is an old Irishman who arrives at a remote island in the South Atlantic to work as a meteorologist. Well, our friend, there, in the middle of nowhere, in an environment different from what he had always inhabited, far from the comfort of home and the certainties of familiar ground, has another reflection that I could not ignore. This one: