A little while ago, not much more than a few days ago, I was a child who went about in a world of colors, of hard and tangible forms. Everything was mysterious and something was hidden, guessing what it was was a game for me. If you knew how terrible it is to know suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning elucidated the earth. Now I live in a painful planet, transparent as ice; but it is as if I had learned everything at once in seconds.

...también me mentía a mi misma, al decir que mi rechazo eran miedo a volver a sentir eso por alguien más; eran las tontas esperanzas de verte volver, tu que siempre tuviste las palabras para sanarme o romperme...

...no te mortifiques por tu reacción a su falta de respeto, una relación relación no termina por falta de amor, termina por falta de respeto, comunicación, espacio, lealtad y sobre todo por exceso de orgullo

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My paintings are well-painted, not nimbly but patiently. My painting contains in it the message of pain. I think that at least a few people are interested in it. It’s not revolutionary. Why keep wishing for it to be belligerent? I can’t.
Painting completed my life. I lost three children and a series of other things that would have fulfilled my horrible life. My painting took the place of all this. I think work is the best.

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Las crepas ya intenté hacerlas, pero me salen unas vomitadas de borracho. Pues, al voltearlas, se me hacen pelota y me quedan crudas. Es inútil que quiera dedicarme a cocinera, pues lo hago demasiado mal y lo echo a perder todo. Así es que mejor me esperaré para cuando llegue a México tu me enseñes