Belén Bermejo (Madrid, 1969) has died and the world is a darker place today. We have lost a reader who, when books were not enough, she would bring out her camera to comb the streets, capturing every gesture.

She cared about detatils, so she looked closely.

Belén was a generous publisher, even with third-party authors.  She never despaired against the cultural onslaught that forms and deforms us.  Reading was her daily plan. She devoured newspapers, read from friends with loving care; she shared her astonishments and indignations with a world, which was sometimes baffling.  And death is baffling, especially when it takes a person who always celebrated happines with such vehemence.  Not even in her worst days, when sickened by the treatment that was supposed to heal her, did she utter a bad word or attitude.  

She was always strong and brave, with such courage, with such a desire to inquire, that she would have made a formidable journalist or a gifted photographer.  In a way she was.

Read more: El País - Cultura