Figures invade my soul every time I pick up a pencil, touch clay, or whenever I decide to create something. I see them jumping, walking, invading the place I live in. I get lost in the shapes and colors that change according to the different postures and movements. They change depending on whether they are sad or happy. Perhaps I meditate in this current sinister circumstance that we live in, where the Social Being is forced to distance and isolation, in which the Living Being is obliged to make a stand by to life. Closed, limited forms. They do not intersect. They have color, they have light, maybe the hope of one day getting together and partying. The day it happens, the color will explode in all directions, the figures will mix and multiply in space while I get blind to everything happening simultaneously. Now they calm my days, these forms that dance in my room, these forms that give me company.