and hopefully a bit of color along the way
Donde el sol es como el trigo,
De un pueblo que es siempre amigo
De aquel que no le marchita la flor que tiene el vecino,
De aquel que ríe y que canta dándole gracias al cielo… De Ahí Vengo Yo —Wilkins
My son Liam while visiting Poza del Obispo in Arecibo.
Roots (y un día regreso, yo lo sé)*
We all have a story and mine begins in the Caribbean island of Puerto Rico where the air smells like salt and the sun bites and kisses you all day long. The colors, the smells, the experience of a good café cola’o (brewed coffee) in the AM and our words, sing a “espanish” of our own all converging into a unique experience of constant resilience, loss and never ending love. It was there that I found my passion for art in all its forms —while looking at my father work in his print shop, seeing the street art that told the story not told in schools and listening to the songs of the streets through the voice of my people. *Mi Tierra —Gloria Estefan
everywhere i look (Y fui toda en mí como fue en mí la vida…)*
There is no choice but to absorb it all. The patterns, the rhythms (tucutún, tra, tra!), the smells and all the hues. To observe, to create stories, to be the character of infinite tales wearing masks, wearing nothing and visiting places new that become home each time we dare look at opportunity in the eye *Yo Misma Fui Mi Ruta —Julia de Burgos