"The breath of the planet ... her crying ... the sad moan of disappointment ... as a mother who mourns the loss of a child ... Earth laments the betrayal of man ... War, famine, pestilence. All have been protagonists of recent times. Time in which humans have changed, however, and has forgotten its origin ... violating the Planet ... His glory has been built in the ongoing abuse of the earth. But everything has to end, because the planet has been awakened, and end up with everything that is harmful, and the way we ... we do not foresee a long time ... "
I can say that for much of my childhood and adolescence was always with some variation of sketch pad under my arm. Many people, in fact, I keep asking" what about pictures? Have you graduated as a cartoonist? ". Such was my reputation, a reputation that bathed me eferverscente of whenever the teacher asked us a drawing in class, making me feel more in demand than a virtuoso of Brazilian football in the English league.
Today little is drawing seriously (though my lecture notes reflect my addiction to the cartoon) and much more to write. Some are surprised that I, as many imagined drawing for Disney or Pixar animator, I deviated from the monotonous world of letters. I am constantly giving explanations to people when they ask me if I'm drawing, when the background is what makes me say: "and do you care? It's my life and do with it what I please ".
admit however that there was an almost tectonic break my talent, one that produced a consistent branch of my artistic preferences.
The lines read up (the incoherent quasi-prophetic warning) now I recognize them as the first earthquake that caused the displacement of the plates of my talents. Was this the first thing I wrote in a comic yet (like most of my stories, stories, projects, etc ...) maintain incomplete, but not forgotten.
Those who bothered to read my first blog post knows that this is less about ideas incomplete and myself, and could even be said that I am also an incomplete picture. In my journey through the files of these fragments of ideas, that sea of \u200b\u200bold folders and scanned images, I began to reread what was written at the time for my comic. And so I finished reading this Kenbei of sixteen like a person completely separate from me, one that has given me a lesson through his writings.
This pubert of life seemed to understand much more than the hesitant 25-year journalist who became, and had such conviction in your dreams floating in the lines he came to save for posterity can smell a spirit with a determination and an enviable view. My parents and family laugh to hear that I am old with just two and a half decades under my belt, but as the architect Franklin Wright said: "Youth is just a state of mind." And what the spirit of this carajito! With ideas that germinated within four walls of the Trigaleña on rainy afternoons and time to kill, is capable of projecting his lyre over time and give me a much needed slap whose impact seems to scream "I'm still here, asshole!" .
certainly an interesting experience to read yourself.
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