Daughter, I leave you glued the Posti-it notes that will serve as North in your compass. In it you can write down your dream, your desire. That, the most important, the one that few people have, the one that makes a human being become an individual

What if, from one moment to the next, and without warning, our thoughts materialized in the air and burst into letters and words made of paint? What would happen to her who wants her lover to return? Or the one who thinks that she will protect her and does not dare to say it? ... the one who expects someone to find out something but cannot demand it? What if all of our thoughts were suddenly exposed uncontrollably? Could they fit in the space around us? ... Could we bear so much sincerity? ... Could we tolerate so much nakedness? ... Could we disguise criticism, ridicule and reproach of another? Could we resign ourselves to such vulnerability?