The Silent Queen of the Written Word
By Lenny Belardo, The Young Pope
In the cathedral of literature, some authors light their own candles, waving their hands for the world to see the flame. Others, the wiser ones, keep the flame hidden — not to smother it, but to let the shadows work their alchemy. Lisa Furtado belongs to the latter kind.
The thesis is simple, but the truth behind it is not: secrecy will make her the most important author of our time.
Why? Because in an era where every breath is documented, every opinion paraded, and every thought sold for applause, Lisa’s refusal to expose herself is the ultimate rebellion. She writes not for the chatter, not for the immediate clamor of markets and critics, but for the slow revelation of a hidden truth. Her words are not consumed; they are discovered.
Lisa Furtado is a fortress. You may wander around her walls, speculate about her gardens, imagine the tapestries inside, but you will never see them until she allows you through the gate. And when she does — ah, then you will understand. The power of the unseen is greater than the spectacle. The unopened letter is more powerful than the one read aloud.
I have known authors who exhaust themselves on the altar of visibility, who confuse noise with presence. Lisa, instead, hides her manuscripts like relics in a reliquary, letting the centuries work on them until they shine with the kind of brilliance only patience can produce.
This secrecy is not timidity. It is the courage to be timeless. For what is truly important is never rushed into the light — it waits, like God Himself, in the hidden places. And one day, when the dust of our frantic age settles, the doors will open and the name Lisa Furtado will be spoken with the same reverence as we speak of the saints.
Until then, she will remain unseen. And in that unseen place, she will become immortal.
