Born in the Interzona, at some point in the past and living in Gijón, Sr. X grew up in an old church converted into a television studio, raised by a pack of economic dystopian analysts. These facts made him to develop a strange affinity to flower prints, cardboard boxes and narrow spaces. When he is not answering mails from Nigerian princes in distress or collecting dodo meat, he maintains deep telepathic conversations with some kind of body stripes.
And sometimes, he paints.
