Past

As my fountain pen ink spillage transformed, final and unique, moments and actions, often thrown within my own story, almost a voracious viewer watching scenes of past life in slow motion, but at the same time everything went by so fast, there was almost no time to perceive life — its most complete translation — everything seemed like a dream. As my reflection blackened all mirrors — portrait in black and white of my ideologies massified for archaic theories of a cloudy and gray perception of my inner ‘self’.

Present

My pen after the storm; breathing, a nuanced desire of the doubts of hope; fear that the words merge into evils, that there is no cure for the daily afflictions, the real treat of the oblivious smile that brings the sweetness of the inspiration of life duality — singing and dreaming — add and realize dreams that go beyond the barrier of thinking: tangible to touch, flavored to the taste of human reality: the metamorphosis of creative idea of work.

Future

A blank page, almost new, slightly crumpled by storm of life, but marked by beautiful ideas and stories captured by contemporary characters who were part of the same script. Just drop the ink on a new prose, let be carried away, get embark upon a new path; a new plot will be created — the endless desire to write a new chapter — new allegories, new and old characters united to ability to make dreams come true — everything will be a brand-new: rediscover the delights of life through a new perspective! ♥