The Day the Lights Went Out — And We Remembered How to Live

When the blackout swept across Spain and Portugal, we lost power — but found something far more powerful.

t happened suddenly. One moment, the world was buzzing — screens lit, notifications pinging, fridges humming, lives moving a hundred miles an hour. And then… silence. Stillness. Darkness. Spain and Portugal fell into an unexpected blackout last Monday — and for a moment, so did the noise in our heads. What could’ve felt like a crisis somehow felt like a gift.

Without the glow of screens and the hum of machines, something strange started to happen: we stepped outside.

Parents, usually distracted by emails or half-scrolling through timelines, were now in the streets playing with their kids. Laughter echoed off apartment walls. Neighbors leaned over balconies just to talk, just to be human together. Couples wandered toward the beach, not to take pictures, but just to sit — to watch the sky fold itself into gold as the sun dipped behind the ocean.

It was quiet in a way the world rarely is. No buzzing, no alerts, no pressure to “check in.” Just… presence.

Candlelight filled our kitchens. Meals were made slowly, without distraction, like rituals. Some of us listened to the radio for the first time in years, hearing real voices trying to piece…