Wandering without hope and justice, turning around for centuries this piece of art finds no rest and peace, being so under the gentle workings of the chiesel, carving the matter by digging into its soft wood. Suddenly the shape is done for us, so we enjoy it, whilst our eyes move, caressing the shadows left by light. As we stop and look on the workbench of this beautiful nature we see dust like rest of the time passed by and tiny fragments of this story of mankind.
In silence for another life lesson they stand in front of our feet, waiting and listening to words of hope, justice and the history that made them great.
And when moving, they follow every word, don't hide and stand without running from this wall less infinitude.
In autumn nearly winter, the wind batters those trees that green are not anymore turning into gigantic waves of a silver sea.
Going down for that special bottle and feeling the gentle pop of its cap coming off, releases all the impulse, already full of experience, coming through the body. Ready for work, another taste of life, a piece of wind between the trees, the rocks by the trunk make a perfect refuge for the lizard, it's harvesting time with cold air wrapping all around. All of those days, just in the hands.