She calls herself Grace

In this very humdrum and materialistic era, her very Presence feels like a miracle. She is not aware – but she shines. Radiant waves of light beam out of her countenance. She is caring yet unassuming. Endearlingly joyous.

She manifests what the poets throughout the ages have tried to capture: wisdom, clarity, sweet elegance. Poise. And above all – Grace.

She is the embodiment of Femininity in its twofold aspects: maidenhood and motherhood.

Amor fati

Most humans´ failure is triggered by their inability, or rather, self-sufficiency and idleness when it comes to decipher and appropriate their real Destiny:
They fell short to fathom and take advantage of those ineffably fruitful encounters with people who would have inspired and enriched them, who could have unveiled the very Course and Sense of their life…Indeed, they prodigiously fail to recognize those unwonted occurrences behind which Grace was winking…
Because of this, most people will live giddily, vapidly and “lost”…


A life spent in illusion is not worth living

And yet…
Deprive them of their illusions
and they’ll fucking kill you.

Find the Connection first

One needs to perfect one´s talent, that´s for sure,
at the same time,
Art has almost nothing to do with outward skill,
inasmuch as
Connection makes the Craft.
Not the other way round…

She´s enwrapped in secret music

Who´s to guess her song?…

We have to find it inwardly

Let´s admit it once and for all:

Other than living on some past grandeur – like Paris or Rome – there are no places left on this earth where you can find true inspiration, communion or artistic thrill.

We are compelled to look inside:


If you wanna raise, have the courage to fall

Writing blocks and how to retrieve one´s creativity

It has been years that I have been waiting for this writing block to crumble down through some miracle or itself. I have fairly good ideas but they don’t appear extraordinary. Since some month I got involved with Carl Jung and I decided to cleanse my mind First…

Different inner complexes – seemingly insurmountable obstacles – prevent your creativity to flourish. Let it simply be that way: Start exactly where you are, with exactly what you have.

True creativity is about simplicity. About ridding oneself of all expectation and comparison. A friend of mine said that comparison is the thief of happiness. It´s actually the thief of self-worth…- I´d like to add. It´s about a soothing reassurance that in spite of all existing books, great writers, “knowledge” of any kind, so on and so forth, if we think it over, Nothing has been ever said. Really…Unlike what society wants you to believe, there is no Authority. So dare start from Nothing – as Life is eternally “empty”…Eternally renewing itself…running further in graceful pace…

We are so oriented to deliver, so keen to reach a result, so overly strained, so we end up in self-flagellation.

So the gist is to become so freed from wanting to achieve, and instead replace expectation with the miracle of immediate inspiration. That sort of inspiration may urge one to look and perceive differently…and in this new space one realizes that A WORD said in great love to the moment, may mean something to oneself. A tone…A color…That word/color/tone feel like a rich promise…It grows by itself if it´s entirely received… So even when what comes out are some loose words, you write them down. Let the process unfold…without putting any further pressure on yourself.

No matter what others say, the inherent meaning must be immediately recognizable within you. And in that awareness allow one´s creativity to blossom. This is what I can share with you after years and years of barrenness…

A second of that ineffable perceived Meaning may be more worthwhile than anything else…

Forget all yesterdays

I wish I could travel lightly…Yes…so carefree as to have a new name for each and every day.

Oh…such sweet freedom as to not even remember my yesterday dream of who I would be today.

When we were kids, Cristina had a nickname for me.

So, at least for now, I will take on the merry dream she gave to me…



A perfume with no name

Oftentimes you feel this intense presence of something irremediably vague and indistinct. A yearning coming from nowhere. A traceless whisper. A perfume with no name. You give it soon up, relegating it as a figment of your unfulfilled desire.

And suddenly…

You encounter it in a poem. In the painting of a great master. In an unforgettable film.

Such relief.

That formless secret mildly whispering to you was no delusion. It is real, but no one around you could testify its subtle purl.


I know…but I don´t know that I know.

I don´t know what I know.

Do you?…