A few days ago was opened to the bozolo of my chrysalis. The result was a beautiful butterfly, a story that I love so much as a lot, even infinitely, I love my children and my family. Of course, against the story they tell is of my characters, the sentiment is not universal or universalizing. Someone will love them, hate them or someone else will be left indifferent. It does not matter. What really counts for me is that my story has a chance to live a life of its own, inexorable tagliado immediately umbilical cord that binds a mother to her child, hoping, then, that the identity of the characters will not be devalued or flattened on the author, that would be me. Go my son, walking alone, in fact, opening your wings to fly and posarti life gently, trying not to get too bad.
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