I look with melancholy as the particles of my participation in the world’s structure fall like petals from a flower, and what remains with me is observation (painting), analysis (writing), and, from time to time, sausage with beer (my preferred). Perhaps the world forces me to be a solitary aquarium but I’m not made to be a hermit, but to march in the cavalcade of humanity, in my place, even if I have to live only a moment.
Extracts of Existence