Elisa who rushs, Elisa who's late...

There are two Elisas in me. Maybe even more...
There are many Elisas and the hard thing is to try to understand who's the most Elisa in all of them...
Elisa is rushing, Elisa is late, Elisa is plently here, and plently there. She's from Brazil, and France, and Argentina, and who knows where from...

Elisa, is nothing.

Is a pure imagination, or a combination of things.
She's the one who likes lady bugs, the one who can't think in just one language, the one who's quite often late, and quite often early... The one who tries her best to be perfect, even knowing that this word doesn't mean anything and exist in the vocabulary just to confuse people like her.

She's the one who loves, who lives.
She's the one who's affraid of falling, of failling.

She tries her best, to be.
And sometimes not to be.
This is the question.

To let herself be, or become, or stay, or maybe she should just let herself breath.
Take a breath.
Never run away.
Stay.
And then make a step, and a step, and a step.


One day, I'll understand that the multiplicity of Elisas is just an excuse, or a safe place, where to start to create.

To be yourself.
That's the most difficult and challenging step in life... Day by day. And someday, I'll be able to take that breath, and that step, and say: I am what I am.