I just cant believe is the end..

And when the day finally came and the screen went black..



LIFE GOES ON, BUT ILL NEVER BE LOST AGAIN

Lonely moon...

A bitter smile crossed her face, bathed in the dim light of the moon and stars as only witnesses to her lonely wandering.
Her feet sank slowly into the wet sand while icy water waves made her shudder.
Everything was already like a mantra: every night she walked along the beach and somehow despite the darkness, always stopped at the same place.
She always sat in the sand, facing the sea, enjoying the peace she could find there, listening to the waves crashing against the shore and smelling the saltpeter that was already a familiar scent.

And only then did she undress her soul.
Sometimes she cried disconsolate for not being able to find her place in this crazy world. At times she spoke of herself so deeply that she found emotions and feelings she did not even know they existed. And sometimes she laughed out loud to not to mourn, so loud that she couldn’t hear the echo of her own voice.

She used to talk to the moon hoping it would listen to her, she used to sing to the wind longing for its eternal lullaby, and above all, she used to count starts.
Those stars that awaited her every day at dusk, that offered her their support, no matter who she was. Those stars who knew of their wandering throughout this time.
She didn’t feel unhappy, OR at least that was what she repeated to herself over and over again. She just felt incomplete, out of place, but not unhappy. She was like that piece of the puzzle that never fitted quite good, like that black sheep out of the flock.

She wanted to escape the routinous life that rolled her up more and more, which cut her wings and made her want freedom more than anything in the world. But it was only limited to that, desires.
Each individual must fight his own battle alone, she thought, basing on it her small and superficial opening to the outside. Meeting new people and exchanging interests and opinions was very easy for her, but talking about herself and her feelings had rarely occurred. She had already been disappointed many times by very beloved people of hers, and in consequence second chances never mattered to her because people never changed.

And there she stayed every night, watching the sea and longing for a new horizon until the moon began to descend and sunlight gradually appeared.
But tonight was different. The wind whistled in a special way, the waves broke with unusual smoothness and the sparkle of the stars seemed brighter than ever.
It must be the tide changing- she thought, as her mind got away from the beach and flew high, very high, far beyond the clouds that dimmed the black sky.
And then she heard it. A faint rustle sounded not much further from where she sat. She looked towards that direction and found a boy, apparently of the same age, facing the endless sea. In that very precise moment their eyes met and he smiled slightly, showing the most wonderful and sweetest smile she had ever seen.
At least that night she would not feel as a lonely moon.

El arte es un arma carga de futuro...

¡Cierren las salas, el arte está en la calle! Empujado por el grito revolucionario y un espíritu que todavía conserva su barniz de idealismo, un joven Alfredo decide crear "un arte más libre, hecho con el corazón, capaz de hacer que la gente se sienta viva".

Su concepto del teatro empieza más allá del escenario, se traslada a pie de calle, cara a cara con el público. Allí en una plaza cualquiera, en un parque o en la avenida más comercial de la ciudad, Alfredo y su grupo Noviembre comienzan la función: demonios que provocan a los paseantes, actuaciones de denuncia social, acciones llevadas al extremo que ponen en alerta a las fuerzas del orden público.

No hay límites ni censuras, sólo hay ideas y todas valen si son capaces de conseguir que el espectador deje de ser espectador y pase a formar parte del guión; se sorprenda, se asuste, ría o llore. El teatro como la vida, la vida como el teatro...
ya no hay diferencia.

"¡Que apaguen la música! gracias. Estamos hartos, estamos cansados, estamos hastiados, estamos desesperados por que vemos que el teatro...el arte en general, apesta a negocio, apesta a funcionarios, apesta a comercio, apesta a publicidad, a rutina, a comodidad, apesta a relajamiento, apesta a aburrimiento, a burocracia...apesta a todo menos a ARTE, ARTE, ARTE ¿dónde quedó el arte? ¡No hagan matemática del arte! Nosotros somos libres y creemos en un arte que se trate de cambiar los corazones de la gente, que los alegre, que les de fuerza, que los haga sentirse vivos, que llegue directo al espíritu, queremos un arte sin fronteras, condiciones ni diferencias...queremos que el arte sea un arma pero no un arma cualquiera sino un arma que de verdad de en el blanco.."