Don’t know since when, life has been marked by the number of paintings completed. All these faces on my wall were myself, at some point in my life, gazing through different pairs of eyes. But all of them were true, to the moment, to myself.
I use to believe there is a paradise on the other side, we just need to sail through troubled waters to get there.
I use to think butterflies were born in fairytales, where all stories end with happily ever after, no one needs to taste sadness or pain.
Then I traveled to places, met people, laughed, loved, cursed and cried.
I am still sailing but no longer longing for the other shore. Because my life, though never was a fairytale, had butterfly moments worthy the suffering through pain.
I am still dancing, awkwardly, but I am feeling the flow, slowly getting smoother, when I learn to stand on my own feet and feel the earth beneath me.
I am still learning, to smooth my damp feathers and get through wind. Life is never easy, “nothing has meaning is easy”; there is always a shadow behind every ray of sunshine. There is no the other side, they are always one. And above all the winding roads, life will start to flow, not one day, every day.