I grew up in freedom, but not taking anything for granted.
I traveled a lot, and even if I don’t remember much of it, I have jeysers in Chile, desert of Saudie Arabia and Niagara falls in my veins. My blood is doomed with that fascination for places to escape.

I grew up in freedom, but I’m not running away.
I’m a silent person, except when I’m not, but I don’t talk that much. Not when it’s about me, not when it’s important. I have a place to go when I feel like the world out there is just too much.

I grew up in freedom, but freedom is not easy.
That’s why I do the things I do. I’m searching for ways to find, no to keep the freedom I already have because sometimes, sometimes I feel like freedom is trying to leave me.
Escape. That’s the word I’m looking for.
Escape.
It’s a powerful word, isn’t it ? It brings sunshine and cocktails and peace when you write it on the paper. And it brings darkness when you say it at loud, and even in whispers. And it’s even more powerful when you act on it, whether it’s in your dreams or on the road.

I grew up in freedom but the truth is more complicated.
You think nobody does the same things you do, wear the same clothes, go to the same restaurant, buy the same books, wash with the same soap, take the same pills, drink the same wine, drive in the same car… And even the fact that you think you’re an original doesn’t make you original, because there’s hundreds, thousands, millions of people who have the same thought about themselves.

The truth is I grew up in the idea of being free, I grew up with illusions. I’m complicated and I’m flawed.

And it’s okay.

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“The hardest part about growing up was trying to figure out what was growing up and what wasn’t, and you were never sure at any point whether or not you got it right.” 
- Gahan Wilson, from “Nuts” (1976)