My big boy. You were small, but big enough for you to sit in a armchair next to the floor. You had left the height that the baby needs to reach the table and not you put on the fastening strap. You were at a stage of your life again wonderful, now you started with a nice ability to distinguish and value the events that they happened around you. This painting creates an inner struggle. Your wonderful protagonist, sweet, calm, kind, marks his character in a clear negative. Manifest, with the expressivity nothing dominated by previous judgments, its rejection. Do not cry, cover your eyes with the hands that, until that moment, have been the means of recognizing their external world. Children are the most sensitive observers. The struggle I'm talking about is my refusal to allow adults modify that intense world of yours, ready to improve. It is a wake-up call, a saying no to aggression, to conditioning, to rudeness. It is still to mold but demands its decision to grow. We have to let him do I love you, I wish we preserved your sensitivity.   MONCHOLC, until today. P. 90                         Dr. Abad

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