In memory of Jaime:
May 28, 1976, a sad day in my life my family's, tears for Jaime. Disappeared.
In May, Vincent appeared in my house in Oruro bringing a letter from my brother, as from the sadness and tears became poetry, music and paintings.

I imagine wheat fields, sunflowers and crows flying, converted into swallows over the hills and pampas of Oruro.

Arrivals to Raul Lara's (painter) workshop
“I've traveled the world, I have walked a thousand roads, I have painted nights and days, thousands of sans have shone through my head… Until I finally found the sun I was looking for, it was splendid, clear, intense, magnificent, just as your brother Jaime described it to me. It was he who sent your letter”. “My name is Vincent … Vincent Van Gogh”. His voice was hoarse but tuneful, almost inaudible with more than a ring of sadness to it. 
It was in this way that de great artist arrived in Oruro. He had a wild look in his eyes, his shoes were worn out, he had the look of someone who had been hungry for years, the dry sweat spoke of a thousand journeys, the skin pulled tightly over his bones, he looked weak, wasted and extremely tired, suffering because and yet living for the sun, wind, rain and cold.