Floral Flamingo


In my recent travel to Cuba I had the chance to see a marvelous flamingo flying over the Keys. Wonderful, ethereal, almost unreal. One magic moment.


En mi reciente viaje a Cuba tuve la oportunidad de ver un majestuoso flamenco volando sobre los cayos. Maravilloso, etéreo, casi irreal. Un momento mágico.

Qué será, será...

I have always love poetry because for me is another way from the soul to communicate, without language rigid structures. Poetry creates silences in our mind, so we can listen to ourselves. I´d love to share some of my poems with you, (they are originally in Spanish, you can find this one below). Qué será, será...

The colors of your eyes talk to me.

They talk to me in time,

in spirit,

in stars.

Whatever will be, will be.

And it will always be air.

Siempre me ha encantado la poesía, para mí es otra forma que tiene el alma de comunicarse con nosotros, sin atender a las estructuras rígidas del lenguaje, la poesía nos evoca silencios, tan necesarios para escucharnos a nosotros mismos. Me encantaría compartir alguno de mis poemas con vosotros :)

Qué será, será...

Los colores de tus ojos me hablan.

Me hablan en tiempo,

en espíritu,

en estrellas.

Lo que tenga que ser, será.

Y será siempre aire.

Available in my Society6 shop.

Green pattern

I love to create patterns in the studio when there´s rain outside. The sound of the storm in the distant is very relaxing for me. Me encanta crear estampados en mi estudio cuando llueve fuera. El sonido de la tormenta en la distancia me relaja muchísimo.

Foliage-Mia Charro
Foliage-Mia Charro
backpack-Mia Charro
backpack-Mia Charro

Products available at my Society6 Shop

Society6mia charrodesign, flowers

Mom-Mia Charro The mother is everything - she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness. He who loses his mother loses a pure soul who blesses and guards him constantly.

Khalil Gibran

Printsmia charro
The Owl

Owl - Mia Charro
The path was purple in the dusk.
I saw an owl, perched,
on a branch.
And when the owl stirred, a fine dust
fell from its wings. I was
silent then. And felt
the owl quaver. And at dawn, waking,
the path was green in the
May light.

Arthur Sze

Creaturesmia charrobirds, owl, poem