history

 

Bianca was born on one autumn evening two years ago; at first I wasn’t quite sure   who she was or what to do with her, her footsteps echoed in the quiet of my house, and I experimented with awe her moving among colors and words. Little by little I began to understand what she was trying to tell me: that you need to be brave. You need the courage to stop, let yourself go and start over, and the courage to speak and fall silent. The courage of the night, of the deep sea, of the screams found in the wind and in the silence, of solitude and fatigue. Bianca’s words expand, they disappear and take flight. Her colors guard but one precious hope: that which whishes for that spark of wonder – the one that keeps us excited and at peace with our “adultness”, the result of the kids that we once were – to never fade away.