Everything that happens in the world of Carmen Pastrana does so in or against the void, that pristine white of her backgrounds that, undoubtedly, in the end becomes another unexpected protagonist of her impeccable scenes. Barely populated, desolate, metaphysical, they develop succinct but very intense dialogues where someone or something is related to some other element and, indeed, also to the unfathomable emptiness that surrounds it. Or against him.
