My history begins at the end of century XIX in some lost place of Eastern Asia; I never knew with exactitude where, I only know that I am the happy fruit of the love corresponded between a masterful craftsman with heart of artist and a creator of dreams with hands able to create of the anything.

My father, with exquisite taste and extremely delicate tact, it looked for the best silk and the best thread of most famous manufacturers of the region, it chose with careful the colours and it was put to work in the work of its life. It drew with care: here a branch, there a butterfly, here a leaf, there a bird of the paradise.

And it began to embroider; a month, two months, three months; stitch after stitch, with pain in the hands, with joy in the soul, suffering and enjoying at the same time. And my mother arrived, love at first sight, fervent desire to culminate the work of my father, knot to knot and that grating that begins to arise from the anything: art in the air, transparent filigree, hands drawing in the sky divine figures. And I was born, beautiful as no other shawl had been never, spilling beauty and pride.

But my destiny was not to cover shoulders of my mother, nor to adorn the familiar table. Separated of my parents I was taken to the port of Canton and embarked there to the Philippines. Terrible passage, cold in the air and the heart. In Manila change of boat and Towards Spain. Length, long way, immense sea, infinite sadness. I sleep with so many hours of the dark and boredom but finally somebody opens the box, precious wood box with ivory profiles, and I see Spanish light. Amiable hands remove to me and they deposit to me with affection in the showcase of a precious store.

Through the crystal collection a different world, other colours, other sounds and other people. I feel to appear again the illusion; to only it reduces to wait for the surprised glance me of an interested pedestrian. A day somebody enters the store; they start to me of my refuge and they extend to me with grace before the peculiar eyes of a Sevillian lady. Would be it my destiny?

If, it was my destiny, a good destiny, on a piano I have calmly seen spend the years. But the best thing was about to arrive; I had two moments of infinite glory: first, a happy stroll by Real of the Fair on shoulders of the my beautiful lady and second, to show to me as I am, filled of pride, walking to me in a balcony of the Sierpes street, waving like a flag in divine Thursday, with perfume of rosemary in the air, feeling music of bells to the passage of the CORPUS.

Juan Casas Ventura