The color that is there, immature in the eyes of the flesh, does not feed the heart of those who see it. So expect the color in the slow moonless nights, dawn, run through the painter's screen and be the image born your wandering and bare soul.
In drifting, like a boat, are the crooked words that imply true feelings; they can not happily pour the same designs into these others, transfigured in color, in loosened and distorted shades of brilliance, brand and art of a time.
On the screen, the first brushstroke sadly awaits the last, but its waiting for simple or indiscreet, conceals the beautiful shaft that surpasses it, and far surpasses it.
The expression on the screen ascends life where life does not have the end that begins or closes, is a pure manifestation of a dimension that we do not know in today, we lost in yesterday and we will create fools in the future, desperate for something more than our joy "ex-existence".