My first memory is linked to my mother ... I must have been 4 years, I remember my wonderful mother when I went to sleep was to roll up their blankets and with its deep blue eyes looked at me with love, with delicate gestures stroked my face and hair and the smell of orange blossoms I entered into the heart. I felt protected, anything could happen at night when she was there with me, so elegant in demeanor was my princess, her golden hair fell soft on the face white and his eyes could see the abyss of his thoughts always deep and never trivial. A strong woman when my mom was holding the reins of the family and a smile was never "due" but "won ".... infinitely fragile my mom when someone is disappointed .... I owe everything to her. He taught me the value of silence, of listening, respect for themselves. The sacredness of writing was his teaching ... I always said when you write you can not lie. And I think I started writing for this. Because when I write and I find myself re-reading that child has in purity, spontaneity and naivety that I can not bring out in my relationships with others. It 's like all day I am posting on my own and then ritrovarem, still intact, the deep sense of my true I, at the same time fragile and strong. Just like my mom. ..
aimless traveler
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