I'm a mystery, something unknown, misunderstood, surrounded by people, but at the same time, alone. I'm no one, but at the same time, I'm someone. I'm happy, sad, angry, stupid, I'm everything and nothing. You can call me as you like, I don't mind it, you can say anything about me, again, I do't mind it. I know who I am, why I leave, the purpose of the things I do. I am an artist because I like to draw shapes, shadows and clothes and I am a writer because I like to close my eyes and imagine things no one else sees, because of the sadness, happiness and every emotions and every thing or person that comes or goes in my life.
I am what I write, or draw. I put pieces of me into everything. I am what I do, and this, my books, are just a small journey in which you will discover me