A book. An ode to analogy. To surrender to the creative urge and then to be free forever. Capturing existence and preserving a little transience. Daydreams that walk alone to generate ideas. Working light-heartedly and remembering the lust for life. Euphoria and ecstasy and heart bubbling.
Laying down in colours. Hands that anticipate, that feel. Full of enthusiasm and fervour. Gently brushing over paper. Draw with scissors. Cutting shapes. Composing cut pieces and studying the language of pictures. Delicate and individual. Gentle and daring. Cheerful and clownish. Always with a shadow on the back of your neck. For the monochrome and the polychrome. But against the aestheticization of monotony. For the idiosyncrasy of the images.
And finally dancing with the letters. The words tickle your mouth. A tingling in the tongue. Create a desire to read. With a touch of irony. If the streets were orange, would zebra crossings be called tiger crossings? What do the trees whisper to you? How do you satisfy your hunger for images?
