She gifted me with her presence. She sometimes gets mad when I don’t take care of her as she deserves, but she always forgives my lack of attention when she realizes she still is the first in my thoughts. Yesterday, I gave a tribute to her, a piece that will last as long as I live. This is to Myo, to Esperanza, to Ete, and all my strong female characters who are as strong as they are fragile and vulnerable, and as dominant as they are submissive. They are the purest reflection of my soul, the independent woman who fears nothing but also doubts a lot. To my love, to my anger, to my passion and my fears, my muse is my rider and she guides me to new territories as I grow older.
When I look at her, I knew she was meant to be. The blank canvas felt an immense solitude without her. She belongs there and stays with me, protecting me every step of the way. I let her take me where she knows I like to escape, and as I am beguiled by her charms, she whispers to me the ideas that will become the inspiration for a new story. My muse is simply my all.
The Manicheans 