I still have a blank wall. Naked. Pure. So full of possibilities.
I can put a painting there. I can repaint it in blue, green, yellow. Maybe red, if I want to.
I had to touch it. As my hand went through the cold concrete, covered with a cold layer of ink, I felt the warmth in it's veins.
A new begining. I felt like... I felt a desire to enter that wall, like Alice went through the mirror.
Except that I didn't want to find Wonderland. I wanted to go back to when I was a painting still wainting for colour.
Retirado do baú, escrito em 20.11.2004