I was there, just on the border
Standing still, facing those blades of lights that someone calls intuitions or maybe illusions.
Mistakes mistaken for reality or even perspectives.
Rearranging the rules of the game, whatever it were,
They wisphered ancient stories of human beings.
They envisaged peculiar new paths
Brand new patterns of possibilities, still uncovered and unnamed
Melting pot of gifts for a new creation
Still swirling and moving
In the silence of that timeless space
They create those minimal connections and relations
Those semantic new patterns
That at last will get a single shape
A new gem
Brought to life
Stories and novels, stories and shades of words. Sapphire can be a voice, a whisper, a night talk. Colours in words, words merged and melted with pictures. Words as colours, words as shapes sometimes overlapping with the visual experience. A different way to see the world or, maybe, just the very same way using different tools and finding different paths.