Me enamoró una lágrima

Year 2020
March was the strangest month I have ever lived. Confined, that was the word that highlighted our tomorrow. The future of all of us. An uncertain confinement began with wide open windows. With applause every afternoon. Months turned to lead. Fear took over our homes. I burned myself through paint brushes. They learned to be my wings. They allowed me to fly beyond the four walls of my room. I could fly far, far away, where the soul always knows how to rest. I made promises. The first one, to the forest: «I’ll be back» I said, «but let me make you a gift in the meantime». This is how this illustration was born, it was an offering to the freedom of Spring. I called it Oblivion.

While I was painting, while I was lost among the foliage of the trees and sadness, a writer named Clara Fuertes did the same with words. Her words spoke of a flowing river (Ara), the last wild river in Spain. Neither of us knew yet, but fate would join us. «Your Oblivion is my Siena», she told me almost in love one day. And a few months later, in October, the cover of her latest novel became a reality: «Me enamoró una lágrima».

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