The girls read. They wear glasses and have freckles.
I read, sometimes hiding with a flashlight under the covers.
And he didn't just read. I would watch movies and imagine myself to be Indiana, not the girl who puts LOVE makeup on her eyelids, but Indiana, the real one. I also played soccer and dreamed of being a pilot, captain hook, a mad scientist and in my dreams I was flying. And while all this was happening I would go to the museum to see colored paintings. And I followed at the bottom of the note the concerts my grandfather listened to.
I grew up and continued to read. I grabbed a camera with which I entered Fine Arts. And between workshops I discovered the linocut. I bought a blue carving iron and a gouge and went to Paris. I lived three years devouring books, museum rooms and *chouquettes. Accompanied by a small box that was gradually filled with stamps. Stamps of all sizes and with a thousand shapes.
Today this little box has become a chest full of whirlwinds of ideas, of cats climbing trees, of storms on the edge of a lighthouse. Of phrases that shine like gold, taken from the mouths of women. Of clouds that become traces. Of invisible notes of poetry. With hands full of ink. And of stamps, stamps and more stamps.