He walked alone, wandering in lonely worlds, travelling around eternal landscapes which blurred under his feet. He wanted to know the aroma of the unreal, and in his trip full of dreams, he collected the fantasy trapped in the stars, the sighs that the wind kept giving him every morning and night, he received the visit of the creatures who live in dreams, and from them he learnt the essence of the delicate touch of passion.|
He captured in his notebook those dreams which didn’t come true, the mind’s dark betrayals, the aromas from the intense reality which he will never be able to live.
Because he doesn’t live the present, neither the past, or the future, he is the shadow which follows the wind, the sound which accompanies the fantasies from the unreal.
He looks for beauty in the darkness, for the passion in the inert, every sigh immerses him in a world where creation is life.
Sometimes he felt like time slid through his fingers, and in every second the most dark ghosts would overcome him, he woke up from his litany with a creative spirit, and his sensations, his fears, disappeared at creation.
Close your eyes, and in each sparkle of your heart, he will reflect your soul’s fears. His images will make you go deep in his universe, where those dreams that we let go live...