All my life I have faced the same issues as all the young people of my age.

Who I am?

What do I feel?

Is it right to feel it?

Where do I go?

What I am,
what I dream,
what I see when looking at the skies in the starry nights,
is an agglomeration of dreams and ideals of millions of artists, that shine as if they were stars that implode in my heart; as if they were planets that aligned themselves in one desire:

To be art.

Who I am?

I grew up with Van Gogh between my eyebrows. With starry nights and café terrace at night in some corner of Paris just outside my room. Embedded in arts and wines, at age 8 I danced my first waltz. It was something punk, taste of Blink 182, then I jumped with those of Sum 41 and Skalari Rude Klub.

I grew up among the oils of the great and the riff of legends; I traveled with the Malmsteen arpeggios, I wept with Santana and I was excited as a child with the young Hendrix. Nach's rap made me a visionary, and with ZPU I shouted to the world to have had a dream. I imitated ideals, while learning peace with Lennon, and I wondered if “all we need is love” was the way of the Beatles or the shape of the arm of Canserbero. It would take me a while to take Bon Jovi's advice and understand what Frankie said about doing it my way.

And so I would seek to form my own revolutions on the stages.

However, the letters flooded my spaces. The first visit of Saint-Exupéry was something unforgettable, but without realizing it, it would be overshadowed by García Marquez, by Allan Poe, Donan Coyle, Andrés Eloy, Mark Twain, Swift, and suddenly my mind was a universe in itself! Center of coupling of the world´s best stories, marching to the beat of blues, an R&B, a classic, or the unpredictable track of Jazz when it forms its cacophonies, full of enigmatic metrics.

I started by admiring the theaters and the symphonies.

I saw the ornamental scenes of my city and my body cried out for more of those muses to give life to every dream that lies in the heart of every star of the universe that lived in me. And I cried operas, I played ballets, and I met Dario Fo, Hamlet and Oedipus after the magic of dramaturgy.

I changed the oil for sculptures and embraced Apollo and Daphne, understanding the impossibility of their monumental love, and I felt caryatid like Atlas holding truths such as that love is about an absence. Although, to make matters worse, I would surrender, equally submissive, to the ideals of Byron and Bécquer, believing once more in romanticism.

Poor idiot, I should have learned better from them having been a pirate.

Daring to invoke Leonora and Annabel Lee, constructing a black poem in which Kraken or Lacuna Coil could help me catch a bluebird that might serve as a muse; without knowing that such a feat, not a bluebird, but a mockingbird would bring to my feet. Mockingbird that I would end up killing, in the name of love.

Like any death worth mentioning.

And a whole process to understand that @elnefelibato is not a name for me.
Not even a personal brand.
This mark is a printed imprint
for the history of before,
now and later.

I am not poetry.
Not even music or photography.

I'm a Van Gogh painting, right at the door of my room.

I am heavens and universes.
I am dreams, and a mockingbird.

I am art.

Let's be prose, let's be dreams.