I first appeared in the opinion section of this newspaper on July 11, 2005 with an article entitled “The Bridge”. In it, he criticized the expansion of the Bridge of National Unity at the time; I was specifically referring to the section

between Guayaquil and Samborondón, what was known at the time as the Carlos Pérez Perasso Bridge. I was worried that that expansion would prove insufficient in less than ten years… And so it did.

I was bald for 31 years when I published that article. Then, on several occasions, I collaborated on special editions of the Sunday section of La Revista, when they wanted to cover topics related to architecture and urban planning. Finally, between February and April 2012, I went from guest columnist to bi-weekly columnist. It was in this medium, in addition to cooperation with some digital magazines, that I positioned myself as one of the two voices that permanently express a substantiated opinion about urban problems that affect our cities (the other person also focuses on urban topics, when he is not writing about football.

This column, which I am saying goodbye to today, has seen my development; from a dizzy and dishonest thirty-year-old woman with strong arguments to a university professor specializing in urban planning. Still disrespectful and always with strong arguments.

I too experienced dramatic changes as a person during the writing of this column. I went from single to married, became a family man and even completed a master’s degree. I was with my life partner to help her live, fight and die. This column gave me the discipline and frequency to set myself the challenge of publishing a book and achieve it.

People who still have something to contribute to you stay close, possibly taking on new roles.

All that remains is my gratitude to all the people who opened the doors of this newspaper to me. Nila Velázquez, Carlos Ycaza, Liliana Anchundia and Raúl Rennella. I also express my gratitude to Carlos and César Pérez Barriga; as well as Nicolás Pérez Lapentti.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that breakups are rarely permanent. People who still have something to contribute to you stay close, possibly taking on new roles.

Maybe that’s why I close this dear chapter of my life by evoking We’ll Meet Again, that old song by Vera Lynn, which many British soldiers sang to raise optimism and maintain hope of seeing their loved ones again. In her tune, Vera Lynn says “I don’t know where, I don’t know when / But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.” Sometimes a reunion is what can make each day brighter than usual.

As for my dear readers, with whom we have argued, chatted and argued so many times, I am sure we will meet again. For better or for worse, the habit of writing and questioning stays with me; and it’s not something you set on fire to put under the table.

I remember SVEMIR, all its employees and readers as what they are: great and dear friends. And all these more than 3000 characters are just to say: “thank you!” and “see you soon!” (OR)