lifted stairs, they pulled strings. God came off, like a ripe fruit, ready now to rot in the earth of the grave. For the first time, inert rested her head on my shoulder, his heart juice We put sticky hands, and at harvest time. Joseph of Arimathea went before us with a lantern, John and I doblábamos under the weight of that body heavier than the man soldiers helped us to put a millstone were blocking the entrance to the tomb. No return to the city until it was cold evening sun. We met again, not without surprise, with shops and theaters, with the insolence of the bartenders, with the evening papers which filled event page Passion. 
Tanya Cosio as Mary Magdalene
Address: Constantino de la Cruz
Photo: Daniel Moreno
