We love writing stories, illustrating children’s books, making videos and, in general, enjoying life.
But we feel that, out of respect for you, we ought to introduce ourselves properly.
And it’s not easy, because we’re generally shy, and we’d rather go for a walk in the forest or work in our vegetable patch than make up a story about ourselves in the hope that you’ll like us better that way.
We live in a world where material things have taken precedence over human values. And that is why we have decided to tell you who we are.
Lola Porras Quintela
Lola Porras Quintela is a Spanish painter, writer and creator of audiovisual content.
She has worked as a nursery school teacher.
The best thing about her is that she is a true Meiga, a she-shaman of the northern forests.
When she isn’t painting or writing, she spends hours wandering through the woods gathering chestnuts, blackberries and mushrooms, or working in the vegetable garden, which she tends with such care that I often say her plants are her babies.
Our house is full of aromatic herbs that she dries, to later make ointments and magic potions.
Enrique de No-Louis Persson
Enrique de No-Louis Persson, of Swedish and Portuguese origin, has been a surgeon for 30 years.
Writing books and practising medicine are his two great passions.
The years he has spent living in Sweden have turned him into a true Viking, which is why he loves nature above all else… including beer.
By the way, he loves it when Lola fills the house with aromatic herbs. Nothing makes him prouder than seeing her devote herself to the most ancient form of alchemy… so he can taste it, of course.
Both of us
Lola and I have a lovely story.
We met 30 years ago. We learnt to share a cup of coffee, without her realising that what we were doing was following the Swedish tradition of Fika. You know the drill: a cup of coffee, a long chat, a few laughs, eyes full of love.
I was living in Spain back then, but I was still very Swedish. Lagom was very much alive in my soul. Neither too much nor too little.
And Lagom was what brought us closest together.
I have never felt freer or more fulfilled than living with Lola.
We decided to get married before God, following the ancient rites of traditional Christianity. No celebrations or false promises. Just her and me alone with God, who, by the way, was giving us a sly look as he said to us… make me happy…
A few years ago, in the midst of the pandemic, Lola and I were working on a project in Portugal. We wanted to create an edible forest, to return to the roots of environmentally friendly agriculture. One day, whilst visiting a tench farm, learning how to create ponds that would be a source of life and sustainable food, I slipped in the mud and broke my ankle.
I knew that my career as a surgeon had come to an end that day. As she drove the 200 kilometres back home, she kept looking at me with concern. I told her not to. When we got home, she helped me bandage my ankle and I told her I didn’t want to have an operation or a cast put on. I wanted to see what nature and common sense could do for me.
Today I can walk twenty kilometres straight without pain.
A few months later we published our first children’s story, Flavia and the Gray Cracks.
I can’t tell you what those days were like… her drawings influenced the text, and the text changed the drawings.
A few months later we decided to take the plunge with our first novel, The Seidkona.
I think it took us six months to write it and translate it into English. Those were days of intense work, of pure inspiration, of staying up all night, hammering away at the computer keys. At dawn, Lola would appear, bringing me a coffee, while the robins approached the door leading to the garden and told us their stories. Then Lola would send me to bed, whilst she began to go through everything I’d written, correcting it and continuing to develop the story.
Sometimes we would go for a walk in the woods, while I told her about the Seidkonas, the magic of Sidr, and all the old Norse legends my grandmother Elsa used to tell me. We would venture into shady spots covered by the branches of the oak trees, or stop when we saw a young, solitary and frightened wolf cross our path.
The Seidkona was my catharsis. An old surgeon talking about cancer, about what he would have liked to offer his cancer patients, had he had enough time.
Earlier this year, our second children’s story was published, Flavia and the Olympics. Suddenly we realised that Flavia’s World was taking shape, that we were writing stories just like the ones from days gone by, with values, with tales that any child could enjoy.
We discovered that Flavia’s World was no longer just for them, but for us too… Flavia’s magic helped us stop being adults full of rules and fears, and become children again. And we remembered that the first time we met, we were four years old, and that Lola was wearing a beautiful white dress with little blue flowers… She was crying over some problem or other, and I went up to her and spoke to her in Swedish. I don’t know what I did, but she did start laughing… that’s the magic of Flavia’s World.
Last year, during the Swedish Midsummer, while we were enjoying a good meal on a rainy day, we were talking about our second novel.
And we set about writing it. We hope you’ll be able to read it soon. Meiga and the old Viking believe there is no more important book in these times. And not because we wrote it, but because it’s about an Old Fisherman… and I, being a fisherman myself, have always known that Old Fishermen know more because of the patience they’ve learnt to have over the course of their lives, than because of their age.
Thank you very much for reading.
We just want to wish you a happy day tomorrow.
