I've never liked to draw attention to myself, but I know there's something about me that makes it inevitable. I don't know if it's the way I move, or how my silences say more than I dare to utter. I speak little, I observe a lot... and sometimes my mind escapes to places I don't confess, where the everyday becomes desire and desire becomes a secret game.

My shyness is not innocence, although sometimes it seems so. It is my refuge, my mask, the way I keep what I really am: a mixture of sweetness and fire, of calm and danger. There are thoughts that I never say, glances that escape me without permission.

Maybe that's what I am: a breathing contradiction, a girl who seems fragile but who, in silence, imagines storms.