In the sun, looking at you,
Seeing you as a part
Of me, the part
You always will be.
You hide and my eyes
Find your soul and I see
A you that’s impossible
To hide. My lens is my
Window and behind,
The garden of You.
My daughter, my beacon,
My purpose.


A boatload of character and disrespect on this, my kid. An even more passionate version of myself. As if genetics played a joke on his soul at the time of conception. Don’t envy his passion, I know what a good dose of it can do to a person if used wrongly, only his youth and wonderment. Salud, hijo…