I was a little girl when you help my mother to deliver my brother Carlos in Clinica Londres, perhaps you don´t remember me, I am the second child of Juan Hita.
I tell you that I recognize my blood in your poetry, your words sound like some words in my poetry: 'Soy pensamiento y conciencia, pienso, luego existo y también viceversa, soy triste realidad y sueño renovador, soy mi reencuentro, mi punto de partida y mi destino, soy mi puerto...' (you can have the complete version, if you want) . I salute you with respect and a familiar smile.
May be the only way to know how high you can fly is to see how low you can fall. Perhaps those that know hell personally are the only ones that can speak about the value of God. Sometimes also we believe so intensily in ourselves that we forget there are other entities outside ourself. For what ever reason, Pepe Castillo- Hita has unequivocally reached a point in his life that endows him with the privileges of sensitivity, introspection and the diction to expose things that only can be observed with the eyes of the soul.
His poetry is contradictory like him, dual like his spanish and aztec origins, never dull or superficial; his poetry is as valuable as a rainbow in the middle of a snow storm. It is true, to be born one must brake through the shell, and the shell is the world...like all the children of Abraxas he knows... he knows well.