Jordi Évole and Maruja Torres share a moment that feels like the essence of fresh conversation during a stop in Rome for a broadcast on La Sexta. In a setting by the Tiber, the pair teased a provocative question about whether they might have chosen the same path in another era, given the same circumstances, and they let a nostalgic Nat King Cole tune drift in the background with the Cuban classic Maybe, Maybe, Maybe playing softly. The moment was less about certainty and more about curiosity, a candid glance at what changes with time and what remains essential in the human story.
For Évole, the exchange underlines a simple truth he seems intent on uncovering: the most engaging parts of any trip come from listening to the people who occupy it. He appears especially keen on understanding the emotional currents that surface when people speak from lived experience. In this sense, the best part of the journey becomes the conversation itself, a chance to hear Maruja Torres describe what aging feels like and how that experience shapes a person’s view of life and art.
She paraphrased a timeless insight, invoking Heraclitus of Ephesus: the famous line about not bathing in the same river twice. This idea, framed as a reminder that the world is forever shifting, becomes a metaphor for life at every age. Whether one is twenty or eighty, each moment holds the novelty of firsts, and that novelty keeps youth alive even as time moves forward. In this telling, aging does not imprison vitality; it redefines it, making every second feel like a new possibility rather than a loss of what once was.
In a warm, spontaneous moment, the two took a selfie before the Pantheon, a location with echoes of history and cinema alike. Torres, who knows her cinema history well, connected the site to a film about ambition and power. The scene references a well-known era and a handful of iconic performers, linking ancient architecture with the drama of the screen. Torres’s memory of a particular film and its figures adding texture to their conversation, she suggests that endings and new beginnings are often tied to memorable places and stories—and even to the impulse to depart gracefully from the world in a place that feels fitting and beautiful.
The last time the two met, Torres recalled, was fourteen years prior, on a February day in 2009. She hinted at the passage of time as a constant companion, and she expressed a quiet belief that life’s early energy can reappear in later years, if one keeps a mind open to youth’s spirit. Death, she suggested, is not a distant certainty but a future that invites contemplation. It is the human tendency to treat it as distant that sometimes clouds awareness of what can still be experienced in the present moment.
Maruja’s memory and wisdom brought a palpable sense of tenderness to the conversation. She spoke with the clarity of someone who has seen a lot and who can still illuminate what makes life meaningful. The thread of her storytelling also touched on a personal loss—the death of a photographer friend who was killed during a historically turbulent moment—and the enduring impact such events have on those who remember them. Her eyes, moist with emotion, reflected that the value of shared memories can illuminate even the most painful chapters, turning sorrow into a form of connection that persists beyond the moment itself. The exchange left Évole and Torres with a reminder that storytelling carries responsibility and that the act of remembering is a bridge between generations, a way to keep past human experiences alive while continuing to move forward. It is in these conversations that viewers glimpse the interplay between personal life and public memory, and the power of words to honor who came before while inviting new understanding in the present tense. (attribution: Televisión, journalist reports)