Tecato, Señor y Panadero
I met Robin in a corridor on my way to the bathroom of the studio of a Puerto Rican painter who was exhibiting some of his most recent works. I saw him drawing a small cockroach with a black crayon on one of the walls of the studio. It was this act of vandalism that got me interested in getting to know him.
Sometimes I stimulated, sometimes I just followed, the torrent of memories, ideas, feelings and delusions that Robin amused himself in sharing with me without the full awareness of the value I would find in every tiny detail. My job was to curate that download, playing with its elements.
This collaboration gave me a new way of approaching cinema and a new friend, a source of inspiration. I hope this feeling is reciprocated.
The other day I was in the bakery and a tecata stops at the door: sir, pay me for a juice - all suffering like that. And I've just arrived and I see her begging. And I say to the man: don't pay her anything, there is Cristo Pobre who gives them food and a lot of Christians give them food all the time. She doesn't need you to give her food. Don't spend your money... No, I'm not going to sell you anything so you can give it to her. And the woman started shouting: Ahh, you're dirty! You're rotten inside! You're so disgusting, I can see it! I curse you with my curse! And me: Go on, go on cursing me, it bounces back! And she: Ahh, I'm the most tecata woman in the world, but I'm the happiest woman in the world! And you're disgusting! She from the door cursing me in front of everybody and me: Praise Satan! I didn't sell her the juice. I felt bad. I should have given it to her.