In the end, it’s all a question of history

Several centuries before Christ, the Etruscans buried their dead between walls that sang to the joy of life.

In 1966 Graciela and I went into the Etruscan tombs and saw the paintings. There were lovers enjoying one another in all positions, people eating and drinking, scenes of music and celebration.

I had been trained for pain by Catholicism and my eyes popped out at this cemetery which was joy.