The Quiet Disappearance of Don Damián: A Symbol of Paraguay’s Dying Print Culture

An opinion piece in ABC Color recounts the recent disappearance of longtime newspaper vendor Don Damián and his wife Ña Olga from their stand on Avenida Brasilia in Asunción. The story mourns the broader decline of print media and the loss of community gathering spots, as digital consumption erodes traditional news habits.

For years, every Sunday meant a trip to the newspaper stand on Avenida Brasilia in Asunción. There, Don Damián and his wife Ña Olga sold not only daily papers but also, on hot days, freshly prepared herbal remedies. The couple, who had switched to vending after Don Damián’s career as a taxi driver ended due to back and vision problems, told ABC Color that the business allowed them “to get by and treat ourselves to small luxuries.”

But last Sunday, the stand was gone. A passerby told the columnist that the couple had not shown up for two or three weeks. The article speculates that they may have retired—or that dwindling sales finally made the effort unsustainable.

The piece, published by ABC Color on May 12, 2026, uses Don Damián’s absence to reflect on a broader cultural shift. It recalls the era when every neighborhood had its canillitas (paperboys) and fixed kiosks that served as informal community hubs for discussing politics, football, and the weather. “Authentic networking spots before the word was invented, and long before social media created the false illusion of community,” the columnist writes.

Digitalization, the article argues, has eroded print readership. First came online portals, then social media, and finally the habit of scanning headlines on phones. The printed newspaper now feels too slow for an age obsessed with immediacy. The canillitas vanished without fanfare; one by one, fixed stands closed. “The city lost a trade that, though small, gave it identity and human closeness,” the columnist notes.

Don Damián and Ña Olga’s empty spot on Brasilia is more than a missing vendor—it is, the article concludes, “a small piece of a city that every day looks less like itself.”