There are days that I collect myself in silence. That I wander in the street near the crowd rushed that doesn't repair that I exist. In this moments I’m only mine.

I run away from the words as if they wanted to do me bad when they only want to reveal my soul. When I take notice of my silence, the words transform themselves in music in my hands. I begin to draw them fluid, flexible, coincident with other existences. Then, I deliver myself to them without fear, demystifying my words and silence.

I want to draw the right words and make them dance in the paper for let them write what is going in my soul.

The Silence hurts but brings me the force that I need to continue…