If I call him Seagull, he may be recognized at once; but many years ago she is no longer the beautiful Colombian woman who played a coffee picker in a famous soap opera, so famous that a remake tried to restore the adventure and songs of the story from 1994. The character is unique and related to the image of Margarita Rosa de Francisco.

The actress continued her professional path, to the extent that she has been acting for 40 years, and she was just awarded in Venice. The one I am bringing to this space is a writer of books of indeterminate texture who guides us in a thoughtful voice through the experiences of her life and, more than anything else, through her voracious personal thought. In a union that owes its editor, columns and newspaper pages harmonize into a whole that the reader must discover, but in which beats an almost aggressive honesty, a vocation to write to “put into words the stupor created by practicing life and seeing others live.”

Margarita Rosa de Francisco had already closed time at the Venice Film Festival when she found out about her award for best actress: ‘They called me and asked if I could return it’

Since to live means to protest, the author confronts reality, from a broad theme that is indeed the assumption of everyday life and its most vital aspects: memory takes her to her childhood in Cali, to her family of artists and her early rise on the stage, either as a beauty queen or as a television news anchor. When she realizes that she has always been an actress – a playful initial connection, a mature transformation into various characters – and despite hating what surrounds the acting world (she admits that she has not overcome stage fright), she will be an actress for the rest of the film of her life.

No conventional marriages, no children, no housework except taking care of her cat.

Now far from autobiographical, what really adds to its volume is its meditative vein. Margarita Rosa writes to curse her Self and to reveal herself in the mirror of writing and reading. She is aware of the weight that history has placed on femininity and firmly moves towards breaking away from what is expected of a woman. No conventional marriages, no children, no housework except taking care of her cat. Solitude is your perfect state because that’s when your inquisitive mind reads philosophy and asks fundamental questions. The pages contain transgressive and even ambiguous responses to the politics of art, to the existence of God – “it is unthinkable”, he claims -, the formation of society and the duty to “look” intelligently. A constant reader, Pizarnik’s poems and Lispector’s stories illuminated her life, but they also made her suffer, to the extent that she relies on the words and intuitions of these writers: pain, death, loneliness, madness.

Margarita Rosa de Francisco before and after botox: Colombian actress admits she’s “totally aging” and will have to do something about the part of her new look she doesn’t like

On the other hand, Plato, Nietzsche, Foucault, Paul B. Preciado are consumptions that appear in her diary to bring her back to the imagined security of thought. Being is drawn as a concept insofar as it questions categories and inheritances, although homo was freer before he became sapiens. With the help of Heidegger, he performs the exercise of asserting that time does not exist because “everything involving time is for man a cause of anxiety.” In precise words for our day, he asks about the meaning of war and considers it so contradictory that peace is achieved at the cost of killing people. This happens, he concludes, because the real war is that of man with himself.

Margarita goes alone, ahead, worth following. (OR)