Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Journeys become relics of metaphors when the author absorbs the music created by seasons, days and realities. The fixed lines on maps bow with reverence to the undocumented paths, forfeiting their illustration to the emblems of inspired wandering. Scattered mosaics and crumbling columns, the strings of a discarded violin, white sand and the monuments that stand to witness the reality of revolutions weave journeys into a tangible music score. When it is performed the signature of its narrator dims, as nostalgia paves the way for recollections to assert their stance in a grey world that fears the brightness of washed colours.