scribbles from a notebook
I dip in and out of writing. Something is simmering beneath the surface. Three women, memories of three lives, each carrying some elements of me inside her. I connect to them, get lost in their lives, I confuse them, then try to separate them back and mould them into three independent characters. I try to create something solid for them, some foundation from which they can at last take off and lead me into their very desires. They are born of me, out of my own pain, desires, memories, the stories my soul collects, but then the time comes to release them and let them build their own lives.
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