Hymne for this moment. This is the time of self rediscovery, of the authentic value of certain words, of a kiss, of a hug.

If beauty lies in rareness, this is the right time to appreciate it.

To get that veneer of appearance off. That boundless Ego, masking so fragile beings. That having to please at any cost. That emotional "satisfaction" brought about by the number of “likes”. But in the end, who cares! Did we all really take that mask off? Not all of us. I still see women shooting and posting photos at themselves at home in their underwear… but for what? The microcosm taking over the macrocosm. That’s the human misery.

So, do we take this mask off? I did. It was so heavy! But I kept it. Not to wear it again, but because it's a relic of my soul. It's a symbol being part of my personal journey.

Time to slow down, no longer to run. And I wander aimlessly. I walk towards an nonexistent horizon.

I hear that everything will be alright… let’s look further!

But I just can’t look further, neither conceive of that. Further than what?

May be I am a pessimist, but I just can't exorcise this, singing on the balcony… at least not now. (I don't want to criticize anyone, mind you. Everyone has their own reaction to the change and to death).

I write music, I draw words and notes, but I do this just for me, just for this single moment... I feel like I'm trapped inside a bottle... a plastic bottle, no less.

I don't know what it will be tomorrow, I don't know if there will be a tomorrow. Why do I have to pretend seeing the light in a world obscured and clouded by doubt and by the haze of false hopes? I feel like we are frightened images caged by the Earth. There is no place spared by the virus. I break free using fantasy, dreaming of an escape by flying to the moon. But when I come back the ground crumbles under my feet, we're out of our comfort zone and who pretends that all of this doesn't exist… Well, that for me is to go further... but a “going further” that I see in the distance, only if I turn back, kind of blurred images steaming away. People look at, but they don't see. Me, on the other hand, I'm not ready to look at that "going further" in front of me. Not yet.

That “going further” scare me to death. It makes me claustrophobic. If I get out alive from this (and I don't take it for granted), I will no more be the same. Even now I'm not the woman I was three weeks ago. My soul is deeply wounded. Something switched off and something else lit up. That's why I like to think about OTHER... instead of thinking about going FURTHER...