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I once found happiness, just like that, laying on the beach, letting my body sink in the sand, feeling the warm sun on my skin, the smell of the sea, its hypnotic sound. It was there, in a hot summer day that for the first time I loved a man in the bright daylight, the sun shining on us, honesty, at once! We sank in the waves as I touched him, but I had to touch him anyway. I then told a friend, who I was, how I was, heard the words as I pronounced them, as they freed me. It was in Corsica, many years ago.

But then they reminded me that we are made of ashes – we are dust and to dust we will return. We die, we bury the ashes, and we offer flowers and cry, cry there, where the ashes are, as if we are there. I lost many years of my life in denial. But what about the water? We are made of water – mostly. Can we contain it in a small bottle and feel the freshness of life only during stolen moments when the sun goes down? We die, we evaporate, we reach the skies, we join the ocean, we swim, we fly, we exist – continue to do so, for what we are. Our bodies – water, freedom…. Or is it ashes, after all?

PS: I am really touched by your art!
Grazie di cuore, Mic