Julia Cameron in her book "The Artist's Way" masterfully describes something that always left me puzzled but didn't know how to explain it:

The fact that many of us are artists without knowing that we are - or, even worse - without being allowed to be.

"Every artist dreams, and we arrived here carrying those yearnings. Not everyone wears black or smokes and drinks nonstop, starring in a cheap novel that tells the story of their difficult lives in residential buildings with no elevator, full of desires and cockroaches, in so bad that even the rats have moved in. This view is wrong.
Like cockroaches, artists are everywhere, from tenements to luxury penthouses – in my building, besides me, with the piano and the typewriter, there is an opera singer. Neighborhood waiters are almost always actors, and the beautiful young women who wait tables are real dancers."

It was with this energy that I ventured into seas never sailed before:

My first face-to-face writing therapy workshop.

What a joy, what an honor it was for me to be able to practice in practice what I have already practiced alone for so long...

What a joy it was to be able to exchange knowledge and feel aligned with what I had planned years and years ago, even when I walked with my head down through the corridors of the Law School not knowing exactly what kind of lawyer I could be if all I wanted/knew/could do was write books.

May others come, others. May many come.

Come!

Long live art, long live writing.