Our family routine permitted us every year to spend more than a month at the seaside. One of my uncles had a beautiful house in a small place on the Adriatic Riviera and we would have the privilege of spontaneously melting into the scenery every summer.

It happened often enough to call It a habit that I would wake up before anyone else. I would love to wander in the garden in the silence of the morning. The sun would be still mellow but already strong enough to invite the little lizards to join me on the stairs and stone pavements. It would be my time to play with them while the rest of the family was still asleep. They would be so friendly to me and come into the palm of my hands so I could pet them on their head. They would close their eyes and seemingly smile. That connection and fascination with little lizards that started when I was two years old never left. I was known in the family as a lizard whisperer.

As I am not high enough to reach the Petrof upright piano's keyboard, on which my father is searching for the combination of sounds that describe emotion and the story he wants to communicate to other people, I am as good as invisible. I am following the struggle and sound manifesting in his legs and toes while I stand still and wait for him to notice me and give me a moment of his attention. Interrupting him is not an option. Patience and bravery is the way to achieve my goal. Hopefully, he won’t get scared of me when he notices me, like the last time he did. I am too young to know that time is measured by a clock. As I am indulging in my own creative process of drawing on the floor, the tips of my colour pencils are the strokes of time. Now they are worn off and must be sharpened so I can go on not interrupting anybody again…