The dream

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

Visul (0)

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

Visul (1)

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

Visul (7)

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.

Visul (6)

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.

Visul (3)

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

Visul (4)

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

Visul (5)

Perhaps because you woke up?…


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