My grandmother is a woman who loved too much.

She loved to the limits of her heart's endurance, until the last fiber of courage.

My grandmother took all the risks and paid all the prices for loving too much.

Love was her strength used to fight against the cowardice of the strongest.

Love was her tool to break paradigms.

Love was the fuel for her boldness

Love was her teacher who helped her to find meaning in what we use to call life.

The day I photographed my grandmother, she decided not to turn her face to the camera. She preferred to keep her eyes looking straight ahead as one who prefers to face life's exasperations and her past enemies, with her head held high and with her most powerful weapon: the love in her eyes.