The noise of the clocks

A rumbling earthquake shook my directions, when I was born in confusion and without a choice, and I claimed, like the rest, the art of choices. And they refuse to show their childhood, and my childhood dances beside the bushes. Our shyness comes from our detachment, and our hiding behind closets, when we wear what hides our savagery and spontaneity, and in the worst atmosphere we may hide our sensitivity with which we are born to life. When I was born on 3/15/1992, and between hanging from clusters of bushes and the flooding of the sea of ​​setbacks, I am nothing but a girl obsessed with books and paintings, with a pen and brush always in my hand, trying to show you some of you in the mirror. Hello, my friend/friend