Mallorca, Spain

I was drawn to you because you had faith. You were like a beam of light, a desert rose without a trace of arrogance. You existed more simply than I had ever dared or wanted to dare, but somehow you were adorned. And beneath the simplicity was a sophistication. You read your Spanish Bible on the beach, you brought it to your studio, you told everyone in the the most uncomplicated way how beautiful it was, how precious it was to you —because it had made everything around you beautiful. You weren’t a fanatic. You were a normal girl doing normal things. This was why you gave me hope. Your faith had enriched you, it had filled your home with light and freedom, like Ocean waves. And you weren’t loud about it, but you weren’t silent either. Your pictures told stories, and your depictions were of God and the subtle traces of Him that were in everything. You were a desert rose.

O. Montora, selected diaries