Meeting Benches World art in all forms
Sitting next to a tiller, to look after, you can carefully observe the banks open. Although not wanting to, you follow a track without curbstones that follow behind these waters, rotting and still, always. When the eye does not look at the banks, is a face that rises from the depths stomach, like a fish that lives at the bottom (“ergo age, fallacious timid, confide figurae”): it do not see it, but there is, quick as a flat rock, jumping on the water, when it stops, plunges and lose it. Those who go, have their purgatory, always away from the open places, here in this swamp of the soul, there will always be forever amen: who has his faith, he never arrived.
(Sandro Zanotto)
