¿Dónde está mi musa?

I was mentally exhausted. I had accumulated sleep deprivation, hunger, a great deal of work to do, and many responsibilities. For a time, I survived those days doing many things well, but I also abandoned other important ones. Out of that exhaustion came the desire to accompany myself in discovering more. I learned about loneliness and necessity, I lost motivation for long periods; Sin embargo, there was always that desire to create. Without knowing where my muse was. At times, photographs of my mother, her writings, moved me more than anything else. She lives with a talent for art, I inherited it. Even now, it is hard for me to sleep at night thinking about those images. En el final, inspiration always returns, and the muse, the one I speak of so much, is asleep there on the armchair.