When I was a little girl, people called me « Stitch » like the little blue Disney monster, « it’s only instinct; to destroy everything he touches »

It is said that I had skipped the phase of learning to walk as a baby, I went from crawling to running immediately. The word that my mother repeated the most in her young adult life was my name ‘Carla', which she shouted in every store, park, and establishment, searching for me, in the first minutes of our arrival.

My aunt thought I was hyperactive, I had a lot of difficulty standing still.

During many family dinners, My close ones loved to remind me of my cousin's wedding, saying that I, being 5 years old, had ruined it. I stamped my feet while running in the church, nicked the microphone out of the priest's hands while he shared with us the holly words that would bind my cousin and his wife forever, I screamed.

In the summer of 2006, my mom comes home in the afternoon, as per usual, she shouts my name while looking briefly in the different rooms of the house. It's very quiet, she doesn't hear a sound, ‘that’s not a good thing’ she thinks to herself and decides to check again if I wasn't in the living room, and here she sees me;

at the table, completely serene and silent.

Holding a pencil between my small fingers and looking at my sheet,

I was drawing.

Since then, I never stopped.

At every moment of boredom or sudden inspiration, I create shapes with colors using my hands.