It was me he was addressing, sunny and brazen “Oi , mister…!” he called with omnivorous eyes, the small cuban boy- come –tour-guide, simulateously both novice and veteran. It takes but a few hours to become friends, travel companions. Oye became our key word. Then it became his name. Then it was transformed into a backpack, a minipilot, that literally stuck to me. Oye takes his first steps across the human body, jumping, climbing and running, hanging from a wire, he mutliplies and he and his brothers wrap themselves around an arm. He takes form. From paleolithic graffiti to the diver of Paestum, from Haring to the green man in the traffic lights, it’s  him – always. Oye – tiny human jewel on the body of the world.