Inside of me, like inside of everyone, there are many characters waiting to come out in order to be somehow present in this world. They come out from a pencil and play with papers, from our mind and play with our life.
Once, when I was a child, I was close to the sea and I understood everything it said to me. then my hands made a face, a body; some faces, some bodies that watched me, touched me, and I watched them and touched them and then they abandoned me, leaving with the sea, melting themselves with all those characters who were born and going to be born from the sand and they had left with the breeze and with the sea (they are still my friends that I will never see again).
It happened the same with the mud, but the faces and the bodies wouldn’t leave. and here they were; I didn’t plan them, I didn’t make a sketch of them and they appeared. They wake me up any hour, any time talking to me, moving through my hands and when they say ” leave me like this ” I transform them in stone… …And my mind and my soul will rest in the stone, in the paper and in the sand, which had already gone.