I remember our journey together through the most incredible landscapes, those of the imagination.
My dad was everything and then more. He tought me about color and shape, about rhyme and joy. I miss him every single day, but I also know that I am so much like he was.
He is, in the now, with me. He guides my pencil when I draw, my hand when I paint, my fingers when I write, my eyes when I search.
He is, we are, I am.
Celebrating Spring in the Italian Language
3 days ago