illegitimate Soma Carlos and Marguerita met under circumstances destined to be gripped by the twisted hands of tragedy. Carlos Enrique David, a man of colossal height compared to most Honduran men, had eyes of the most bright reassurance, a face slightly scarred, and a dense head of black hair. His dark countenance was the embodiment of kindness, his actions the emblem of pure elegance - the natural, elegance of a middle class dreamer. Carlos David was meant to be a leader from birth. There was something so remarkable about the way in which the machine of his mind produced schemes and plans, so subtly designing and so brilliantly articulating the thoughts that perturbed him. Thoughts of a fight for freedom, for the eradication of the unbearable corruption and oppression the Honduran people have undergone for decades; of the environmental consciousness and education that was so desperately needed in the country. He was what you could call a charmer: attracting women from left to right; perhaps because of his charisma, or the leadership that radiated from him so profoundly, or the piercing eyes, a shade shy of pure black. Perhaps it was his authoritative air, for Honduran women are bound to find such command extremely appealing. Marguerita stood a mere 5 feet tall, her olive skin stunningly resplendent, her eyebrows strong and her nose flawlessly straight. She was known by all for her sense of humor and trickery, a trait acquired by her father's family, who were notorious for their scandalous pranks. Her father, Alfredo Lobo, was a man married to a woman, Paola, who resembled a porcelain doll. He would ride around in his flamboyant cars and see his illegitimate children selling candy, barefoot and grimy, and continue on his way nonchalantly. For Claudia's mother, Violamte, and Alfredo it was never clear whether they had fallen in love or simply embarked on a rash journey that facilitated passion. Violamte, a stubborn woman by nature, did not allow herself to accept any money from him - not that any was really offered anyway - because she knew she would live to raise her children alone. Marguerita therefore lived the fate of a bastard, and lived it fully. Yet she herself would carry the curse through her own children upon meeting the piercing eyes of Carlos David under the excruciating Honduran sun. The way in which Honduran people carry out love is certainly one of the most peculiar and engrossing events that nature may behold. It is almost as if love is distorted into a temporary rage, in which one plunges into a liaison of forgetfulness, of lust, of abandon. It may not even be love; in the case of Marguerita and Carlos, it is certainly impossible to tell. Because love - this essence, this magical spirit that so ferociously takes a hold of all other emotions in the body, this selflessness - is perhaps too magnificent a feeling for any story. 240315 what's it to you? who go blather from