The dream

Fixed points, straight or curved trajectories, the round perfection of the empty circle – everything has an infinite meaning and means nothing.

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And from fixed points departs IT, the mathematical inertia, disappearing in space, along and across the careless time that passes by.

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White and black, divine non-colors, the very essence of known universe – in them you see everything… and nothing…

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You see the stairs and you take your first step, climbing little by little beyond trees and glass sky-scrapers, beyond the deafening wings, beyond the clouds themselves.

Visul (2)

You see the chaos and the order; you see colors dripping in silent spirals – here a long forgotten castle, there Prince Charming and fairies – racing comets in a falling-stars necklace.

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You see the perfect, mathematical shapes melting down in diffused rainbows and you see how the nothing starts to make sense.

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You see the contours of the colors and you see the chaos that abides the rules of imperfection… becoming perfect.

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OR, you see how shades are lost one by one in shapes, gathered once more in the divine-white on the scientific-black background…

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And you see there’s only one thing left: the infinite…

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Perhaps because you woke up?…

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