The kaleidoscope of imagination as a powerful object.
I carry with me a peek from time to time, we see in the colors of life, change the setting to my liking, as a skillful driver of theater, that the strings in his hands, calloused hands, raises and lowers the fifth stage, and then play with my characters, my creatures designed to be temporary characters of my script, which I wish I wallow in my kaleidoscope.
Yes, gentlemen, I have one of my own, but are not the only one to possess, each have one, unfortunately there are few who understand the endless possibilities of this tool of alchemists, who does not look only inside that at some point we get into the kaleidoscope, there is in life ...
life, one that is staged every day on a stage and dusty old past life, wrought by so many treads on the alternation of several characters, mothers with their children, children with their fathers , the lovers with their loved ones, sisters with brothers, friends and enemies along with their friendship, love and hatred of his twin ...
... love, staged by gut-wrenching, to weep and cry, to laugh and smile, to dream and wake up with his throat parched from the heat ...
... love this strange feeling, a comic opera to be rewritten day by day, hour by hour, a script to never leave alone in a drawer to slide between his fingers perpetually, to be read and reread countless times to change the words, where they no longer have a happy sound, because they had yesterday but today they are shrill screams deafen the ears. ..
... the human comedy ... a kaleidoscope of colors, jugglers, a magician, cops and robbers, optimistic young and old whores, little women who want the gold and love me , my beloved solitude, the roar of my thoughts, violence of my frantic throw colors on my canvas ...
... then there is a voice-over narration that tells us and knows when the end comes!
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