“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
― Mark Twain
I will try not to bore you unnecessarily with useless details, but knowing how much of a rambler I am, I can’t give you any guarantees.
I am an aspiring writer who dreams of having a 48 hour day – whether it’s to have more time to write or to sleep I’m not quite sure. Unfortunately it varies quite often.
I live in Italy and it’s my third country of residence.
I have been described as romantic, but admittedly I’m a cynical realist, and although the two aren’t contradictory per se, sometimes it’s hard for me to reconcile the concepts. I am stubborn, lazy, and occasionally quite rude, but also compassionate, honest (in its variation also known as blunt) and trying to stay dedicated to the choices I make.
My all-encompassing love for books comes from Disney’s Lady and the Tramp. During the summer of 1998 I decided that I wanted a cocker spaniel and my parents were foolish enough to tell me I could have one, if I paid for it myself. I turned to my Grandma, who offered me a deal: she’d pay me for reading books; by the end of August I had fifty dollars (it was an absurd amount of money, especially considering how little she paid me for an hour) and an inability to put a book down and dismiss any written word.
And, yes, I did buy that dog!
Although, I started “writing” at the tender age of three: silly stories about a bear, half-written, half-drawn. I used to be quite cute, I’ll have you know.
I’m a girl who’s not quite sure how to fit in, with a healthy dose of doubt whether I want to fit in at all. The only solution I’ve found is letting the words I so often can’t really say flow through the characters I imagine.
Their lives, in so many ways, are mine, be it in happiness or loss, love or betrayal, and writing, creating, letting the characters be, frees me to become myself and live my own life.
“There are painters who transform the sun to a yellow spot, but there are others who with the help of their art and their intelligence, transform a yellow spot into sun”
― Pablo Picasso