During the 7 years that was studying fine arts at the two institutions that I attended to Leopoldo Romañach in Santa Clara and the National School of Fine Arts, in Cubanacan, La Habana, many things happened to me, like the one I shall tell now – a real story that was engraved forever in my heart and that I could never erase from my memory. While attending the second year in Fine Arts (La Habana) in addition to drawing classes with live models, we had other classes that were important support for our artistic formation. The assignment was Anatomy. One day, the professor obtained authorization to visit the main mortuary in La Habana once a week for us to make drawings of those deceased models, following the steps of master Leonardo da Vinci. We went there several times until one day, when everything changed and became really sad. That morning, while entering the morgue, we saw a child about six or seven years old, placed on a stretcher, apparently asleep. At his side, there was a policeman who was very nervous. We stopped by and the police made an unexpected request: if we would help him to dress up the kid – who was dead, not asleep – remove his school uniform and dress him up with new clothes because nobody dared to do it, including his parents who could be heard outside, shouting loudly after hearing the doctor’s report. My girl companions and I completed that unforeseen and sad assignment life had forced upon us as a hard test on that particular day. Once we completed dressing the boy, the policeman asked us to groom his hair, which we did with my own comb. At such moment we realized there was a white flower by his unhappy little body, without any scratch on his rosy face. Then we learnt all the story. The young boy, who was walking to school with his grandfather, suddenly got out of his hands because he wanted to pick up a flower as a gift. When coming back with the flower in his hands, a car run over him ripping his life out in a second. But the white flower remained in his hands, even after such fatality –the flower for his grandpa. We never returned to the morgue.