I have a black cat. It would be better to say that she, Iki, has me. She made me change my mind about my lack of interest in cats. As it usually happens with moments of change, she entered my daily life without asking permission and went on to occupy a place in my workspace, from where I write these words, or in the chair of my laboratory. This initial disinterest was mutating into sustained sympathy. So in 2019, in a bookstore in New York I found a magnetic print that could well be a portrait of Iki, with the legend “STAY CURIOUS”. That remaining in a ‘state of curiosity’ is the common denominator of cats. It came to mind that this latent curiosity in childhood is diluted over the years, as if anticipating a disappointment at not finding what we are looking for, even if we do not know what it is. Then we abandoned the search before we started. This is not the case with cats, sneaking into a closet, climbing into a library, or appearing where they have not been called. Always looking for something, which is not necessarily food. It’s the search for itself. Simultaneously it came to my memory that in ancient times, being curious was fitherned by the society of the time. The curious person was labeled intruding, both in worldly and spiritual matters: all the answers had already been given, and it was not necessary, and even counterproductive, to generate uncomfortable questions or observations. It was intended to make curiosity look like a pathological trait. Because women and men from later years persisted in their longing to know beyond the established, it is that today we consider questions as important as possible answers.

I bought the magnetized plate impulsively and now it’s in front of me: it’s one of the first things I see when the day starts. Among other things, it encourages me to imitate Iki’s insatiable curiosity. Then I notice that this new kind of observation has aroused my curiosity towards cats. The cycle is paying off…