Ava lived this way. Ava died this way.

Ava saluted death with a somber smile and together they parted while the sun still smiled softly on a summer afternoon.

The Reaper, for the first time in history, was not cloaked in torn dark garments. No sickle in her hand. Together, Ava and the reaper seemed like two good friends embarking on an eternal adventure. One wore a black cocktail dress and the other a hospital gown buttoned to the knees.

This way she lived. This way she died.

She, the spark of the neighborhood and as happy as the flirtatious clouds that draw shapeless objects in the sky. Without a destiny, enjoying every moment and without looking forward as those who have blind faith in promise.

Ava lived free.

She owned the wind and the rain. The sky was the roof over her head and the mountains the walls crowned with stars that invited her to walk unknown paths. Every home was her home. Wherever she arrive she stayed. All of the open spaces cherished her joy, a joy that inundated the atmosphere like the warm smell a cup of coffee.

Ava lived this way. Ava died this way.


J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

Prague, Czech Republic

3.26.2010