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I cannot remember for how long I have been suffering melancholy. Before, I used to have a “normal” life, enjoying every single of my activities.

Suddenly, its symptoms appeared. At the beginning I experienced difficulties to live with them.
Suffocating sadness and deep guilty of being myself; inexistent tears from the failed oblivion of being another sorrow man. Melancholy; I have leant to dwell with you, survive you; in fact, I have started to enjoy my own black bile.


Consciousness of living with this black lady makes me see my world and my everyday with different eyes; I think I can distinguish better the things that really matters for me. Meanwhile, I use art to give answers to my quotidian experience.


It is the trip that I need to cope with.

Black Bile


I´ve lost my purpose

Just a black hole

In the middle of a sunny day

I don´t understand myself

I would like to silence me

If only I could born again

I´m captured in my old me

That’s all I know

Fear and courage at the same time

Tears and smiles that no one can see

Hopelessness to learn how to co-exist.

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