About

I was born in San Salvador in 1997 and grew up in a country of contrasts, in a family that bet everything on education. My father, a former military man from Nicaragua, took me to villages to help families who had nothing, so I would understand my luck. He was murdered when I was eleven. Overnight, life went from a broad avenue to a tightrope: school stopped being a given and became a sacrifice my mother was making, and I learned earlier than most that actions have consequences.

What pulled me back out was sport and, strangely, trading card games. Gymnastics taught me that if you do something long enough, things change. Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh taught me everything else: I bred rare Pokemon and sold teams on Reddit at fifteen, bought card collections below market value, and later moved cards between continents after discovering that American cards were premium in France. Nobody around me called it supply and demand, negotiation or inbound marketing. For me it was pocket money, and later it became the way I paid for what mattered.

At eighteen I moved to Grenoble to study theoretical physics: a bachelor, a magistere in mathematical physics, a master's in astrophysics, years of tutoring and coaching gymnastics. In my final year my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. I sold the collection I had built over a decade to pay for her treatment and worked the equivalent of two or three jobs so she would want for nothing. She passed away in my arms in July 2021. That year taught me more about skin in the game, and about keeping your head underwater until something works, than any course ever could.

Then came the real pit: stuck in France with an expired permit, a back injury that barely let me sit, rejected from every program because I had missed every deadline while caring for her. I rebuilt the way I knew how: I trained every day until my back worked again, and one night I laid out everything physics had actually given me. It was not the equations; it was the ability to make complex things simple, because what people love about physics is what the equations let them see. So I taught myself creative coding to show it. When France ordered me to leave the country, I fought the decision and won. The letter is framed next to my desk.

The sideways path followed: a master's that turns scientists into business people, a year at ALPAO in adaptive optics, a year at Schneider Electric teaching thousands of people to use generative AI, and finally the X-HEC Entrepreneurs master's at HEC Paris. My thesis there is about how business school almost unmade me as an entrepreneur: I sat through term sheets and unicorns and recognized nothing of what I had lived. By the school's own metrics I did not exist, because I never raised a cent. Meanwhile I was running a real company with real clients.

Today I run Genial, an AI agency built as a one-person company whose internal processes run themselves. I build automation that works unattended, teach people to use AI the way I wish someone had taught me, and keep the physics muscle warm with the interactive systems on this site. My definition of the word that started all of this is simple: an entrepreneur is someone who builds himself first; the business is the projection of that person into the world. The thesis is called The Astronomer Who Couldn't Look at the Sky. I no longer look at the stars, and it turns out the astronomer can be happy looking at what is around him.