Writer in the making.
Half grown storyteller.
Finger poet,
because they are the ones in charge of my creative journey where my head is just an occasional passenger.
I was left in some left trousers pocket as a trivial redundancy waiting to be washed with the rest of the laundry.
As we all get hanged to dry, I witness the birth of texts on my old icy walls.

También puedo decir esto en español pero la pereza me tiene acobijado del frío y no pienso levantarme de la cama todavía.

Koori means ice in Japanese.