Writing is like creating forms and shapes in silence. Where the stage is a blank paper. Where a pencil dances embodying verses that seem like endless steps accompanied by a fine melody of quiet rhythms.

Choreographing is an everlasting metaphor that I write everywhere in a paper full of the ink of relentless bodies.

Portraying steps that seem like unflagging verses playing with subtle rhythms of boundless melodies...

Let it be,

Embrace all in me around, inside and unknown. Let the blossoms of my spring become the fall of your orchids and inhale this spirit until its last breath.

Let me contemplate heaven under the beloved blue of your glowed blanket and become cloud where I can lie down my dreams on your lap.

Let it be with a blink and let me dance on the harmony of those heartbeats that pound my existence... let it be so it will never stop being.

Just let it be.

“ I am an immigrant. My story is real.

I am living my dream and is full of colors, peaceful nights and music.

I am lucky... They are not...

Thousands of dreamers, fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives have crossed a border with their souls in their pocket and their heart as a flashlight that illuminates their shriveled smiles.

This is a tribute to those night-walkers. To those train-sleepers and those that didn’t make it...

Imagine being so desperate for a better life, a smidgen of  a golden opportunity, you would be willing to risk it all.

Imagine your entire extended family: aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, poverty stricken, selling everything they have to give to one of theirs a second chance of life. Imagine giving everything, including your soul...”

All in this darkness is the light of your smell,

walking words of love and unpredictable whispers that travel riding fountains of this desperate core.

I tango with the bitten moon of  Sag and my bow reaches the embrace of your branches.

Your ponderous garden like a spectrum glow of the skies were you belong uncertain and nude. Your laudable beauty pounding green rays of incommensurable taste. It sounds like flirt and blossom praises from the deepest corner of the awaken sea. It retraces the path of your indomitable soul that guards the incandescent flare of  these  impenitent senses when I get absorbed by the beguiled rhythm of your smile...

You are the best present the horizon is offering to the most meaningful

place in my soul...

My entire self is being pulled by the incomparable mysticism of your waterfalls. Burning low my skin with your unforgettable scent which explodes dancing on my fingers when I touch you...


Take me to your corals,

let me dive climbing your sand and honey reefs,

let me lay on your clouds and I will sync my heart into the incommensurable forms of your mountains,

Take me so distant, so remote, so unconditional, so you, for me, to me, from me, in me...

Be my rain and my salt, my storm and my shell.

Be so you to be so me...

... you are every flavor in the air.


Every texture of the sea spells your rhythm in every language,

with the sound of two beats that walk in the hold of hands at the end of the wind embracing the moon...

at the border of the sun immersing its wholeness in the infinity abyss of the ocean...

That one which you own...

That one that is you...