The body of a word is made by sensitivity. This kind of sensitivity is not made by hand, but it is made by heart, by brain, by feeling that mixes these two organs into a mixture of blood and toughness. I’ve felt some peculiar thoughts crossing my mind, flowing with some tears for a gladness of thoughts. Is a feeling that makes you jumping to the stars and back, to hug everybody, to kiss for nothing … there’s more than feelings.

I’ve started to scatter charcoal dust on a piece of paper, to give birth to a word, to melt it with ink (from a hard beaten heart) and then to rise from a paper - a woman (made by words carefully sifted).
Hey you! – (said me to the word-woman), can you touch my feeling, could you help me to carry the canopy of stars that shines, could you help me to carry the light that will flow through my words. Can you help me...?
True is the woman in a world made by words called brain? Every one of us has this mysterious woman, hidden somewhere in the lumber room, in the skull, through old rough book pages covered by dust, into the bathroom or sleeping inside everyone’s dream.

She can take different shapes – of animal, of non-living things, of human, of entities; she can be also a man, or both in the same body.
She/he/it is called MUSE … and she/he/it is made by words, which are made by sensitivity.

I am a word whispered to your ear, pushed into your eyes and tasted with your fulfilled lips (in a plenary of unknown) – as a word that you are!!!