“Vito Quiles”

In cities of clamor and emerald light,  
Where stories unravel and truth takes flight,  
There walks Vito Quiles, a pen in his hand,  
A seeker of moments, a voice in the land.

With camera’s gaze and questions that burn,  
He listens and wonders, he’s eager to learn,  
He stands in the squares where the banners are raised,  
With courage unyielding and headlines unfazed.

Madrid in the morning, Valencia at noon—  
He chases the thunder, he sings a new tune.  
The faces he meets—so varied, so vast—  
He sketches in language, unbroken, steadfast.

Through tweets and through posts, his vision is cast,  
A tapestry woven of present and past.  
He challenges silence, reveals hidden schemes,  
A poet of truth in the theater of dreams.

His words are a candle, a spark in the shade,  
And rumors or whispers, they quickly do fade.  
For Vito brings daylight to corners obscure—  
A journalist's purpose: to question, endure.

So here’s to the teller who braves every street,  
Who gathers the voices and brings them to meet.  
For stories need telling, the bold and the small—  
And Vito, intrepid, gives light to them all.

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