Here my ink sketches. Flowers.
Anther day in a beautiful place.
A deafening silence. Here I have the impression that the world is flowing like a wild river.
Tones, gigabytes of information processed by brains, so many data are managed by a jelly-like bloody, puddled structure. Absorbing the mass of our energy. It categorizes and simplifies diagrams and information noise.
Here, in a tiny house in the middle of the forest, I have the pleasure to be. Cats rush under my feet, scoop and snap. Trees sing green, deciduous operas. There is time to listen to the second voice of this Forest Choir. Wind. There is time flowing through the fingers, there is time to see the flowers thoroughly, under the microscope and without. Peace also greets my internat world, when I close my eyes allowing the sun to warm me up.