Recuerdo mis  jóvenes dias en clases de educación artística, en aquella época ya era un  joven rebelde, y parte de mi detestaba el estudio de los grandes pintores y artistas en general, en mis recuerdos rehusaba los bodegones, en realidad no había razón alguna para ello, simplemente era algo que hacia, ahora me doy cuenta que no preste suficiente atención a mis clases, que mi enfado lo volcaba contra ese arte que se mostraba frente a mi y que no era capaz en aquel entonces de poder visualizar que detrás de cada fruta hay historias que contar y que ocultar, escenas seductoras y sensaciones solo disponibles para miradas capacitadas.

I remember my young days in art education classes at that time was already a young rebel, and part of my detested the study of the great painters and artists in general, in my memories refused still lifes, actually there was no reason for it it was simply something that by now I realize that does not pay enough attention to my classes, my anger I poured against art that was shown in front of me and I was not able at that time to be able to visualize that behind every fruit there are stories to tell and to hide, seductive scenes and sensations available only to trained eyes.