Nothing is absolute, the fragility, the ephemerality of the moment is always present, like a gust of wind that moves us like a reed and makes us tremble.
A path full of appearances, full of realities, deceptions, falsehoods, false promises, unfulfilled promises, silences, waiting, hopes and then, later.
A weathervane the wind you and me looking for the north, the south, the east and the west, each one's. Image of a changing reality, of uncontrollable forces
and on many occasions incomprehensible,that strength that comes from within to continue, to continue telling us the story of the milkmaid
and continue... and continue....
It doesn't matter if the door is closed, it doesn't matter if they look at us from the peephole and don't open it. Indifference does not matter,
lies do not matter, contempt does not matter, not even interested use, only the truth matters, MY truth and the way of saying it with art, with MY art.
