My childhood friend and neighbor Mauricio Ulloa could not pass in August. He died at 37 springs, a few days before, according to conventional wisdom, the elderly may feel safer to live another year. Now I see from an uncertain place and I am not resigned to black leprosy tarnish his memory error ... "Passed away the poor fool, idiot might say. Those that can hear me, understand that the value of a man is not given by external factors such as fame, money and power, and this looks like a fucking sentence shall be initialed in the future.
I met the summer of 80, when I arrived in Temuco from Lotina land, and it was my first friend or co-raids in the then fledgling Villa flavorings. His unbridled imagination, it did not incur great quirks completely cruelty free, hid in the background and child a loving heart. It was, I have to hide it, a male version of Cinderella. I remember no more than ten years and see him busy in a pan with clothes, or prevented from leaving to play for having to wax the house. Younger brother of a sailor father's Protestant family, was in fact unrecognized stem one of the daughters of the matriarch, her brothers were really his uncle, and this anomaly (family prejudices have given way to other horrors in Chile) had always treated him differently.
In 1991 I moved and stopped him, but about seven years ago I met again with him. His family had been exiled by a scandal with a niece (very grown-up) of that - why not! - I blame him alone (Luke 6: 41-42) . Had separated some time ago and had to live on charity of others, coping with hard jobs then, if you study for a degree offered his negligence happy and libertarian did something irresponsible disposal. That was his darkest time, as usual, the highest sensitivity to art: Mauricio think he knew the terrible secret of the beauty and the dangers of crossing over, was a mystic without a compass and an artist a wasteland, a subject fun and immensely creative, pregnant with a language without reading that had shattered the notions depleted sense of humor.
Last year I found him after several years and shared it with some of their own. He worked in a sandwich for her husband's only sister was always unconditional, and lived with a young woman who adored him, who had a three year old son was talking about child devotedly. Had corrected the past and looked calm. But early Saturday the gods wove 22 otherwise his fate: he was hit by a woman who ran away and threw his body over 16 feet from where he was (that they will win the lawsuit, I'm sure) . Now, far from the third dimension, wanders through places of which little is known and continues to investigate. I'll see you again Ulloa crazy!, Attack will play with plastic soldiers, and read libations Quiroga lonely ... where the light is more than just a spark.
EVERY MAN SHOULD BE ABLE TO ALL THE IDEAS, AND UNDERSTAND THAT YOU WILL BE IN THE ARISING 
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