We are all indentured residents of this Theater called: The City! By definition, the City is a community of Human Strangers; built, in part, by the theology of our desires: of our dreams and nightmares, of our hopes and tragedies. of our loves, fears, guilt and our hatred. Ultimately our life and death.

We are streams of poetry, blurs of passion and arrogance. We encounter the Other's Tale briefly,

then pass away; a trace, a ghost, leaving remnants of consequence to roam the streets and by-ways.

Each of us enacts our perspective and though our views, the City becomes a kaleidoscope of experience.

a week outside of the studio, being in open spaces, hearing different sounds, being back home, it's completely new. exploring now, all the wonderful sensations I didn't see, feel, or hear before! being a stranger in one's own space, is always so refreshing, now to start some new adventures in a familiar old place...

An empty place. A white spatial/special page. Darkness around us. Let's play! Let's start running around! Let's leave a trace. Lines, forms, directions, words, screams and lights. We can mark our territory. We can underline our presence. We can design a ephemeral castle. In emptiness. Let's play. A pure spectacle. Then, suddently the lights will disappear. Darkness will prevail. But still, we can keep playing.

Dance aloud and unbound!

Sing with your soul the beautiful lyrics of joy!

Play in the rain! Chase the rainbows that vault the azure skies! Remember when horizons were dreams and innocence spawned the phantastic! Death is an enchantment. Its enticements are simple but few.

Gallop through the lands of Evil unafraid and play among the Gardens of the Gods!

run around. go nuts. do whatever you want. anytime you please. even if it's sometimes in your head.

Emptiness. Realm. Absence yet imaginary presence. Micro and macro. शून्यता. Philosophy. Identity. Languages. Urination. Music. Blindness. Height. Deepness. A word of absence. Then the creative process starts. You fill the blank. Walls, ideas, colors, notes, feelings, dimensions, time, coordinates. The absence turns into presence. But does it matter? Better the void than an absent presence.

Emptiness. The abscence that fills the hollows after presence has moved on. Memories lying on the edge of consciousness. The sensation of Love after the warmth has gone. The value of objects of the arbitrary or a room that suddenly became empty encountering your presence