GThe "freedom" we live in, imprisons us on the nets of a world made of concepts and prejudice , with laws and behaviors that enslave us. Freedom is sang in verse and prose, but we only attain it when we done the useless corpse to the vermin which enjoy the banquet of our remains.

Death frees the spirit enabling the elevation to a peace and sublimation world, if there is a heaven populated with angels, seraphs and cherubs, playng harp and flutes. Personally, I experience total freedom moments when I write. The world is my free flight. With no rules nor censorship and heeding to no styles, I write what I wish, the way I wish. Love poetry; protesting verses; fairy stories; witches stories; life stories; fiction and reality.

I write in metaphors; disguise the contents between lines; indicate through analogy or say what I have to say openly and go straight to the point. I take AN UNUSUAL TRIP through the PATH OF THE INSENSATE were EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN AXE TO GRIND and go the ghetto of THE PARIAHS. AS BEAUTY IS NOT SERVED ON THE TABLE, I serve RICE, BEANS AND JILÓ and offer HOT CHOCOLATE & WOOLEN SOCKS. Freud explains THE THIRST of the TEENAGER
GIRL who remains in me. When I write, I am like a bird flyng in the infinite space of the blue immensity, there, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF HEAVEN!