Day by day, we let ourselves engaged in the rush of the
modern life, polishing the cage we built and filling the void with the pursuit
of material wealth. We have violently distanced from nature, from every natural
and primordial antidepressant. We have emptied our insides of joy, forgetting
that a life shouldn’t be constant busyness and rushing, but contemplation and
creation, connection with people and time for nature. I have rediscovered all
this in an isolated place from Catalunya, Where
the almond trees and wind mills are, where time can be counted only by the
sunrise or sunset, with “clefts in the rocks where I may hide and secret
valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed”. By my latest collection, for
which I have used some “souvenirs” of that place (wood parts, almonds, leafs),
I wanted to share with you a small part of what this place means and bring it
closer.
“Happiness ... not in another place but this place, not for
another hour but this hour.”
— Walt Whitman
