ROSA NIGRA | Imagine the light can bathe the pure marble of a sculpture turning it transparent.
The sun strikes it, and in the explosion it makes it deprived of substance, disconnecting from the world with a propulsive strength that extends to go beyond the endless one, freeing it from the weight and turning it into the transparency.
The light filtered, does liquefy the white, discovering conductive lines talking of a shrine of rose.
Away the clichés, the skeleton now approaching and the physical structure of the Ancient wooden occurs along with his memory vocated to the innocence.
And yet it is complicated, and yet it is a false mere that oozes love. Love of the flower and love of its black roots.
All the ineffable woody Cashmere prevails. Its tension releases precious instincts of deer musk, ruled by the harmonic line of Amber with twinkling hints of Vanilla.
The false simple in silence lifts the soul of the heart with reflexes of freesia, in the imaginative dissonance of the Sandal, and the sun dazzles and shapes it overwhelming with the ineffable sense of the peach fruit.
The architect knows well that this is an affective event that calls to itself all the things, free, connecting the contingency to a future, event destabilizing the ordinary logic, event that happens to me", that touches me as a cloud that is going to accomplish myself.
Here is the grace, in the perennial plants with the enervating gems of the Absinthe, miraculous stem revealing the sublime through the folly that exalts and leads.
The self is shattered, now ,over the metamorphosis of the false Rose,