I live, I exist, I am.
I live in a world made of fear, joy, reckless abandon.
I exist as human being among human beings.
I am what I wanted to be, what I hate to be, what the sea dries and the sun washes.
A door stuck in a wall, a future imprisoned by the past, a person confused by the crowd.
I chase ideas, concepts, words which turn into a mystic way to conceive life.
My name is ephemeral, my body is fleeting, my soul is inexperienced.
I write about melodies that accompany you in life, ordinary pieces of a bizarre existence, moments idealised to be artistically designed.
I am the Cellar Door.