He walked alone, wandering in lonely worlds, travelling around eternallandscapes which blurred under his feet. He wanted to know the aroma ofthe unreal, and in his trip full of dreams, he collected the fantasytrapped in the stars, the sighs that the wind kept giving him everymorning and night, he received the visit of the creatures who live indreams, and from them he learnt the essence of the delicate touch ofpassion.
He captured in his notebook those dreams which didnБ─≥tcome true, the mindБ─≥s dark betrayals, the aromas from the intensereality which he will never be able to live.
Because he doesnБ─≥t livethe present, neither the past, or the future, he is the shadow whichfollows the wind, the sound which accompanies the fantasies from theunreal.
He looks for beauty in the darkness, for the passion in the inert, every sigh immerses him in a world where creation is life.
Sometimeshe felt like time slid through his fingers, and in every second themost dark ghosts would overcome him, he woke up from his litany with acreative spirit, and his sensations, his fears, disappeared at creation.
Closeyour eyes, and in each sparkle of your heart, he will reflect yoursoulБ─≥s fears. His images will make you go deep in his universe, wherethose dreams that we let go live...