The night is our home, it is our shelter
A huge contradiction: looking at the silent universe, where sound does not exist and when it is born it does not spread, and having so many sounds born in you, so much music composed over the centuries, so many words, texts, poems, verses, so many paintings, so many thoughts, dreams, promises, trips into our inner world… We look at the outside world and sink into ourselves. What greater proof that we are all made out of the stardust, the material of the universe? Up in the night sky we placed God, fear, hope, prayer… Night is the most primal image