te esperaba
ningún texto, ni llamada
pensé si me dañas
¿yo por qué me he queda'o?
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te esperaba
ningún texto, ni llamada
pensé si me dañas
¿yo por qué me he queda'o?

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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English: This is the first OC that I have made. Her name is Maria the mouse, she’s my official oc. If you want to know more about her and my other characters, you can always follow me and ask! :)
Spanish: Esta es mi oc (Original Character) que hice. Su nombre es Maria the mouse, una ratona y mi personaje principal. Si quieren saber mas acerca de ella y de mis otros personajes, puedes seguirme o incluso preguntarme! :)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The subtitle settles us in Buenos Aires, 1971.
We are introduced to a figure that walks in the right side of the screen, the side reserved to the wicked. Curly blond hair forms an aura of splendour in a peach-fussed face. Oblique lips, light feet and feline eyes betray this Angel right before the voice-over starts: it is one of the Fallen.
Indigo blue and yellow cashmere, pouring from a sensual chaos from that Angel, reminds me of a sunny day with rain; or, even better, a summer storm. The Angel, sun bathed, bringing along heavy lead-blue clouds. The color yellow reminds us of insanity and, to that man, the indigo becomes an inescapable torrent. “Does anyone thinks about freedom? Is everyone crazy?”, he asks himself, he, the man who killed 11 people between 1971-1972, raped two women and robbed at gun-point 17 times.
If art director all over the world could make a public plead, they’d certainly cry in unison: let us tell stories! We are, too, capable of telling without words, they’d say. In a matter of seconds, the art department already allocated us in time through the combo jeans + turtle neck cashmere. High waist pants with frontal buttons, for sure. That, along with that angelical-diabolical baby face that was already mentioned, would dismiss those explanations about destiny and disdain over private property. We can see.
Primary colors tell the tale written and directed by Luis Ortega, turning a real story into a aesthetic and captivating movie. Piles up layers: at first, innocence, that should be no more than an anti-moralist boredom on a young Argetine boy in the peak of the Military Dictatorship. What follows is a crescendo of surreal crimes, each time more violent. The colors now show cruelty, banality. Each robbery turns into a little unimportant game; and we have a third meaning to the primary colors: life itself is a game, a fun tetric play of stealing, fucking, killing and dying.
Wickedness lingers around this biopic. The sexual tension pumps up and suggests itself in every oblique eye that breaks the fourth wall; every detail that seems to ask compliance in the angelical mischiefs. The movie’s place in undeniably hollywoodian, of a classic narrative; that old kind of movie that takes you by the hand and glues you to your sit from start to finish. The soundtrack is composed of 70’s rock by La Joven Guardia, setting Carlitos Puch’s 'El Ángel' pace and rhythm: pure boredom and the banality of chaos. When we finally listen to Piazzolla’s milonga, diegetic in the radio of a future victim, tragedy’s already settled up. The Angel (El Ángel) Dir.: Luis Ortega Argentine, 2018