El ser, atrapado por un Dios que lo oprime.
At an early age began my passion for art. Winter evenings in Montserrat and Congress, Buenos Aires and rain were my best excuse. With the gray light that collapsed because of the high and endless window, simply drawing with a black Bic on any paper I could find. A magazine or book that mistakenly appeared at home as well as the stories were the focus of attention on my part to clear days. My relationship with art continues to fluctuate even after having formally studied art at the School...
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