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Many people close to me, even family members ask me: What is your distraction writing in a room, alone? My first response is a smile followed by the word "satisfaction" looking into her or his eyes demonstrating my joy of living. it is a spontaneous response, it is not necessary to think twice because it's  in myself, deep into my soul, it's part of myself. Those hours are not just for writing, there are periods in which my physical body disappears and with it, all my senses, I write like an automaton because I can't even see what I write, all of me immerse myself in a world completely separated from my reality, as if traveling in a tunnel without walls, of infinite space and time until visualizing the place where the story takes place, with a date on the calendar, feelings, music, people who come and go between good and evil, with heaven, earth , water and air conforming a wonderful world adorned by my imagination.

Only a loud noise brings me to earthly reality, when pain or joy reaches its maximum affection and unconsciously I laugh or cry, waking up to reality, but I easily return to that fascinating place, I just have to start writing, and in seconds the trip restarts.

Someone told me that I don't  heard the doorbell at the entrance of my house, that I don't heard the dog barking, nor the telephone, who had to stop knocking on the door and leave knowing that I was at home. I am so sorry please!, it is that I was not at home at that time, I was writing.

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