When the noise is imposed around, there are moments of solitude that come as an escape from the rush. It is a fine solitude, a wished one, very rarely transited, very rarely enjoyed. At the same time, more and more pursued. Same as one more routine, I incorporate these solo moments to my shadow, my waiting and my transits, to enjoy them when present and long for them when going away

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 The trees are my roots, my family; they anchor me to the ground, and I always go back to them as a vital need. Both solitude and roots define me an comfort me. One cannot exist without the other 

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In this solitude we are born, we mature, we die.

In this solitude we dream, we remember.

From this solitude we'll be remembered, we'll be dreamed 

 

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