Outside Casa da América Latina in Lisbon there is a mural painted by several African and South American painters which does not immediately catch people's attention.
I have mentioned it to several people I know, who had no idea of what it was or even what it looked like ... and although I can't find a direct answer as to why they have never felt its presence, I would say that maybe the bright yellow imposing façade of the collonial like house condemns the background painting to natural oblivion.
Every picture tells a story and every stroke of paint leads the way to travelling in the immense world of our imagination, but so do stories.
Today, as I walked into the magnificient yellow painted façade to listen to a story-teller from Cuba I had no idea that I would soon become a child sitting by a big tree in Africa ... eyes and ears open to a contagious shade and colour like voice, as Rosália led us into a world of interwoven simple stories with a striking educational value.
Living the life of each character, she was responsible for the "colouring" of the whole drama, adjusting gestures and movements to "paint" the scenario ... pausing to add the next paint stroke to the story ... singing and dancing to better mix the already profuse tinged palette ... inviting the audience's cooperation to give it the final touch ...
"Era una vez un cocrodilo verde" ...
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