David’s Bowie death shocked and saddened me. I really liked his music, not all of it, of course, but a lot of it. My mum, a French baby boomer, had bought ‘Ziggy Stardust’ when it came out in 1973. I listened to the songs ‘Rock n’ Roll Suicide’, and ‘Five Years’, sometime in the late 1970s. I must have been about seven or eight years old at the time. I looked at Bowie’s image on the font cover with a great deal of fascination. I thought he was handsome. I remember asking my mum if she too found him beautiful. It was a burning question for me.

I have just read the comment by Paula Coccoza in today’s Guardian. She praises a debut film made by Andreina Nash, showing the plight of Venezuelan student protesters.

On the 15th of February, having read Virginia López’s article’s ‘Venezuelan violence could leave Maduro stronger’, I was utterly confused by her analysis. What happened on the 12th of February in Caracas, why, what are the consequences? I could not answer these simple questions. Then I understood that this apparently balanced account of Venezuelan politics is in fact biased.