I admit I do not know how to speak your language, that is, the language of your art.
Nevertheless, I tell you that profoundly and still more profoundly, inside this heart of mine – I feel a sentiment. The same as it was that day, when I saw an image for the very first time. Something touched my heart deeply: something happened inside me – without being aware of it – something that changed my life. Since then I felt that something was rushing and rushing inside me, through my veins, enrooted its seeds into my spine.
I love art, trying to love it as love loves.
I do not know any other reason to love art, rather than simply love art. What can I say, more than this? You know what I mean. I just want to say to you that anytime I talk – or write – about art is… that I love it. Sometimes I suffer that someone can just reply to what I’ve said and not to my love. Anyhow, as I told you, I do not take anything for granted: I will never ask art for more that it has decided to give me, don’t you?