¿Sabes? Hace un par de años sentí una especie de explosión narrative. The words came automatically. The stories were there. But I braked. The routine fossilized my brain. I started writing a diary to keep non-sanity. And he wrote these stories that tell me that you love. And rewrite every time I had the opportunity to polish the words. Unfortunately the newspaper did not do it on paper but on the computer and put it in a USB stick that was lost on the trip to Cartagena. He wrote about sex, about love, about hatred, repression, fatigue, lost hopes, the faith was reborn with a gesture. Disappointment. I was reading an article by Truman Capote and part says that when you are in love you see for yourself and see the other. Sometimes I think that by writing I do for myself. Also I do for that person who still has not arrived, that may never come ... Because writing is, as you well say it, an act of faith. Andrea
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