My parents always tell me I must learn Maths and read books, and that I must not waste my time painting. But I cannot stop myself. I often find myself with a book in my hand, trying to read, and with a painting brush fully moistured in tempera paints. The colours take a wonderful shape and my book remains untouched for hours. Instead, a new painting needs its place on the walls of my room.
I started to paint when I was three years old, when I received my most beautiful present: coloured pencils! I decorated the walls of the entire home, until my mother decided it was time for me to paint on paper and not directly on the walls. Maybe my story seems funny to you, but drawing and painting mean so much to me: art makes me enter a different world, the world that I want. I discover new shapes, new colour combinations and I can create a more beautiful universe: the universe of my soul.
