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In this case, we have a fighter that Arabic has laid down their arms (non-combatant).
Many men and women are led to conflicts.
In those situations, any amount of damage occurs in addition to multiple conflicts, these affected people in a physical,
emotional, family, and interaction with other individuals.
this work of art in this rayismo, true authentic work of the artist, who has experience as a broadcaster by international humanitarian law, to the various illegal armed groups of the Colombian conflict and the military, schools, civilian population. facilitating humanitarian work, specified delivery of hostages, providing care for endangered missing persons search, care in displaced persons camps by armed conflict, the civilian population prevencion mine etc.
This humanitarian work has been developed between the years 1990 to 2003.
The artist, faced the same threats from armed groups, making people of non-conventional weapons explosions as gas cylinders, etc terrorist attacks.
through art, as well as constructing a teaching material for use anywhere in the world, as prevention of attacks against civilians, Article three (3) common to the four Geneva Conventions of Switzerland; recovered my mental health.
THE WORLD IS JUST A WONDER, FOR THOSE WHO LIVE IT AND VISUALIZE THE ATTRACTIVE PARALLEL THAT WE SUBJECTLY BUILD.
My pictorial work incorporates landscapes and human figures in its natural scene. Give the body preference over movement, creating a deformity inspired by ambient sounds. These, in turn, help us show frozen color melody on the canvas.
I am the lyrical poetry of the jungle, where the goldfinch is passion; song of the silent harvests of ideas. I am the silent verse when in constant outline; they travel like passing birds.
Left-handed or right-handed movements lead me to deep singing in chromatic time. I am not the genius who glimpses the crowds; I watch and learn how to have some of that passing time.
Color calls me to dance in its brilliant intentions, as a different path to the brilliant horizon; the seconds explode intentionally and without mercy; when your memory does not leave a memory.
As dawn breaks, I go to my destination, armed with visions that conspired in the night in my dreams; closing in the dark eyes and opening the clear sun in silent morning.
Heraldic condition of Don Quixote in penumbrous fright for his beloved in the stars, infinite fire without stopping my hands; dream catcher to enjoy the viewer.
To deform the figures that pass through my brown eyes, to exaggerate the mass in detonating natural movements of the calling tone like a gloomy jungle.
Backgrounds and shapes fly to infinity; like crystals dancing verses on my canvases.
Spaces, backgrounds and shapes, songs of light and dark encounters; saturating the cognition of the infinite frozen poems on the inert wall of sidereal times.
Since I saw him in my thoughts, I lost the identity of being myself; for which reason it has been brutal in my spaces and does not let me sleep.
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