Watercolor on paper. 50 x 70 cm (1 ft 7 11/16” x 2 ft 3 9/16”)

When I think about these reflexions I ask myself if I’m free to make my own decisions, and at this point I realize that my whole life has been subjected to the hidden aims of my mother when she decided to have me. My mother created me with one purpose: make my father stay with her. But my father left and never came back. So, for my mother I was a complete failure because I was not able to make the man love her enough to stay with her. I have always believed that I was nothing, and nobody would love me because: Who would love a woman like me? A woman, like… what?

A woman able to overcome the sentence of my mother, to live a wonderful woman without afraid of being different and to break the pattern of an invisible legacy. The most important part of being myself is not feeling guilty for experiencing who I am, beyond my inheritance. Because the roots, the pain and the traumas can be transmuted. And in the end I love my parents because they gave the only thing that belongs to me, my life. Especially because if I’m here, it is consequence of all the things that are behind me. If I love my present, I love my past.

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