Verónica Echegui, we are left without your light, your spark, your warmth and your love.

I met Verónica while filming Katmandu. She was the heart, the soul of the film. It was a very tough shoot, the toughest I've ever been on, and she overcame it as best she could and with great courage. And with complete dedication. The experience and she taught me many things. Not only about work, but about life. Verónica had that capacity, because of her way of being, of feeling.

In the calm of editing, far removed from the battles and hardships we experienced in Nepal, I was able to enjoy, at times completely dazzled, her work and her person, her light, her sweetness, her generosity. She conveyed it in every scene. Afterward, we shouldered the impossible task of dubbing the film together for a week. And once again, she gave her all to the character.

We haven't met since then, but I've seen her grow over the years as an actress, as a person, and as a director. We recently had a very nice, brief but profound reunion at one of the film festivals. That was the last time I spoke to her.

I had no idea she was ill. And I'm, like everyone else, in shock . Part of the shock is also because for a few months now I've been imagining that maybe we could work together again. I imagined her, if she wanted, bringing to life the character I was building in my head. I imagined her giving me her face, her eyes, her voice, her humor, her intelligence, and her humanity. I still can't accept that she's gone.

Rest in peace, Vero. We're left without your presence, full of light, sparks, warmth, love, and charisma.