I have always valued the power of words. I have seen how they have the power of mending hearts and easing pain, while also having the power to destroy and corrupt. Words are fragile—so fragile that I take care in choosing the words I write as I fill page after page of my Moleskine notebook with those that express my innermost passions and my most genuine hopes and fears.

Not a day goes by when I do not journal. Writing is something very special to me, something essential to my life. When I write, I feel as if I enter a sort of breathing room: an open space in which anything is permissible and where all things are possible. Journaling is important to me because it helps me to be honest with myself. I am no longer self-conscious in my breathing room. As I look back on the journals I have accumulated over the years, I see how my hopes and fears have evolved. Journaling allows me to see how I have matured as a person, gradually, page by page.