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Tras varias semanas, necesitaba que le cargaran las pilas ... Subí a Zaragoza a verla .
"- Con este viento que hace no apetece salir al parque,
¿ verdad ? Y además yo con estos pelos, que hace que no voy a la peluquería ..." (y se echa la mano a la nuca con gesto mecánico).
"- Pues qué aire hace, chico ...!-"
- Sí- , contesto. Y las hojas vuelan recortándose en el cielo. Como aves de mal agüero.
I got printed the cold light of a March morning in the high land of Castile. Here is a proper way for an artist to say that he was born in a village. Spain, province of Soria; have you ever heard of this ?.
I lived there for a few years. Then, followoging life´s whimsical will I finally landed in Madrid. In this city have I my present and, hopefully, definitive abode.
As an artist I haven´t gone through any particular, or academical learning. I mean, to the point to get...
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