In a corner of a room of EFE is hung a picture that nobody sees, but is alive. A woman who trains more than six hours a day flies, folds in on itself, is holding the feet with your hands and back, and his twenty fingers brush the sky faded. Her blue swimsuit and looks like a cloud over his muscles, protruding from the glass and frame, are the strong wind in the afternoon. Despite his prowess, this woman, this bird that in a few seconds will turn into a fish-not feel protagonist has fallen to the left of the image so that, even without a caption, anyone can know when jumped from an invisible trampoline. It was 1992. On the right, blurry and unfocused in the background, yet unmistakable, standing between the houses the Sagrada Familia with its eight towers.
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