Graffiti and a Gun (Letras Armadas)

Desde Perú, Jean Paul Du Bois, ex dupla creativa mia, realizó el corto “Graffiti & Gun” (Letras Armadas), basada en una historia que escribi a los 16/17.

El corto se termino de producir el año pasado y Jean Paul lo inscribio a varios festivales. Hoy entre al link del corto y sorprendentemente no me pedia contraseña. Cuando miré la descripción del video entendi porque.

Despues de ganar varios premios, el corto esta disponible para todo publico. 

Los premios son:

OBRA PREMIADA EN EL CONCURSO DE OBRAS PERUANAS
Mención a mejor Dirección Artística.
GANADOR DEL INDIE FILM FESTIVAL. COLORADO USA.
SELECCIÓN OFICIAL LOS ANGELES CINEMATIC ARTS.
MENCIÓN A MEJOR CORTOMETRAJE FENACO 2012

Abajo comparto el link del corto y la historia original en ingles. 

Graffiti & A Gun from Jean Paul Du Bois on Vimeo.

Graffiti & Gun

I'm standing in the middle of a room full of corpses. My hands are covered in blood mixed with paint, and I'm holding agun.
Suddenly you walk into the room. There's silence. Your eyes tell me what you are thinking.
You've always been transparent to me, and I'm capable of reading your mind. I know what you're thinking.
"what do i tell the live?"

I wish you would walk closer to comfort me, speak to me.
Now you're probably thinking of what to say. It's an uncomfortable situation.

I'm thinking... "Just, please, let my heart be comforted by the beats of ur voice."

It's like we are telepathically connected and you've just read my mind. 

"it's ok". "Everything will be fine." As you say this you walk closer to me and hug me.
At that second I wish you would have walked out as soon as you walked in. I'm still holding the gun.
In your eyes it's written  i've commited murder. We know murder is a big sin. 

People used to get crucified for blasphemy all the time.  Imagine what they did for murder.  In my head though, I think of when the people chose to free the well known Murderer instead of the Messiah.  I'm the Murderer. I can get away with this.

Get rid of the evidence and those who know; me and you.

While you hug me, you realize the walls behind me are coded with fresh writing, that to you, is well known; my graffitti.  Tears fall and all i can think of saying is "i swear, the graffiti isn't mine..."

For a second, I think and i come to the conclusion that the cans of spray contain my finger prints and so does the gun. 

Still crying i say "i promise the graffitti isn't mine..."
I repeat myself over and over again, untill I wrap my arms around you tightly and burst into tears.
You dont respond to my reaction; you dont trust me, and i dont blame you.  I dont trust myself.

You stand still, not knowing how to react.
"Hug me", I say, "Hug me like you've never hugged me before"
You don't hesitate. I ask you to tell me you love me.

"I love you"

The corpses still surround us. We are still in the middle of all this mess.
I'm still holding the gun.

I hear you say "I love you" for the last time.  It's good enough.
But i won't leave without you. and two gunshots are heard.