The look at things

For every look that lands on an object or contemplates itself, I write this. The gaze behind the gaze is the only view, because without it all beautiful things are only the pale reflection of itself.

A very first look.
Whether it is even stealthy
Is a first moment or the spirit
flees, goes astray

In a creative balm
We come out of nothingness

Behind the reflection of things Hides another vision, a clearer one, as if the light of the mind illuminated it with a thousand lights. The observer then becomes the artist who paints the depth of things to alter their memory.

Once the soul is well lost

It is in his memories
Of the previous look

That draws virtue

The artist of the future

To seize the moment

The photographer freezes the memory with a faulty precision, because the clearer the reflection seems to become, the less the ideas are. The work is rather born of the vagueness that emanates from a memory well altered by the mind. The very one who loses his rigor when the heart suggests his sight.

The raw image blurs
Behind, hid
The one and true beauty

In the eye of the jealous pious
The fools who did not believe,
Not in this voluptuousness.

Isn't the melodious charm of music the look at the world of a spirit that transforms a memory into a memorial and sentimental symphony? From the first note the banal sound launches into the air crossing the wall of carelessness. To engrave himself in the partition of hope, of the one who believes in the absence of an end.

Listening denied it, there!
These notes behind
Well, hide under the sound

that makes if a hat,
In a voice, a plenary
Clamoring a word in unison.

From one word one sentence is born, from this sentence a text, from oneself a masterpiece. One image your thousand words, imagine a thousand images gathered in one word. All altered visions of the same thing that represents her so beautifully etched in memory. They do not even represent yet the outline of the final work, which is played between heaven and earth where the heart and reason bias the gaze, like a procreating god who filters life in emotion.

It is loving that nuance,
The look of reason.
The sketch of the image,
Which of a wise influence

That sets the tone,

Of not, being too wise;

Wisdom emanates from reason, this is a fact, but the wise know that happiness comes to the one who knows how to lose his discernment to live a feeling. Love or hatred of things alters the human perspective, allowing the birth of a creative idea. God created the earth in one day, finished the job in five others and rested on the seventh. It only takes a second for my mind to create an image of you, which becomes a painting where the colors mix to become that of happiness. Freedom is therefore born of the portrait that frees itself from the prejudices of the container with regard to its content. Imagine the world created in six days with such beautiful seconds. Divine fantasy of an Eden where the seventh day serves to remember all the seconds spent in your presence. The second then becomes the beginning of the gaze behind the gaze.

Divine madness opening,
The spirit to renewal

Who admires content,
Instead of containing?
That makes beautiful stand out,
Ingenuity charm

The charm that seduces is the one that embellishes the coveted view by the feeling of desire. He can turn a daisy into roses, this rose into a bouquet and wither any hope that turns away from the idea that gave birth in the work to the feeling of love. At this moment, the heavenly muse of emotion ceases to shine with all the promises made to oneself. Time will erase, by itself, the retouching of the heart on the image that is clarified to pass from art to photo, from dream to reality.

Desires and punishment

Thorns and rose garden

Forms the opposites
Who controls this time
Between image and portraits

Instant with a bitter taste

At this moment, it is necessary to close your eyes, because only the reflection of the inner
gaze remains as the film of life. The happily sketches of the past moments will be sorted and the happiest will form the secret garden. 

The one where charm will still be the flower remembering Eden.Love and feeling,

To the victorious eyes,

Whom even close see you?
Remembers the magnet,
Who sows happiness,

Through oneself.

Reality fades before hope as when one squints in front of a light. The alteration of the heart on the vision of love gives it the rise to cross the wind of indifference and the tide of oblivion. From then on, the gaze behind the gaze gives you the difference between melody and symphony, between love and passion, between word and poem, to better understand the meaning of the one who wants to see further than himself. This vision goes beyond the prejudices of sight, to preserve memories like a painting of all I love you.The study of the past,

The life of the present,

The unfinished future,
A well-counted life,

In three movements;
Those are interrelated.

The past is the wardrobe where we store our memories, the present is the learning of one's past, the future is the hope that our mistakes are not reproduced. They are connected to each other by reality and emotion. This should make, from a past mistake, a different present moment and future. Betting on our hearts that the disaster of yesteryear will not guarantee the future, we sink with pleasure into a sea of memories to still believe in this symphony of colors on a painting painted with notes. Or hope rises from the ashes to revive the second look. With the view from behind taking the lead, life leaves reality to be the dream or the sleeper stays awake.The gaze behind the gaze, the work behind the idea, the eyes at the service of the mind...PrologueIn life all things deserve that we take a look, that we form from this looks an idea, from this idea, a painting. It is the intensity of the moment that will make it important. The colors of this memory will make the past work a dream to guarantee the future. Grow them in your secret garden, because their sets will give you the keys to happiness.The MuseThe inspiring look that made me see in the depths of my soul came to me from the very fantasy of its creation. The laudable love feeling, which opens the eyes of the heart to the image of a person, for one to make it a portrait of masters. Beauty is not judged by the simple look, but by the idea that it inspires behind the eyes of the one who looks at it. Love therefore filters the image I have of you to make it an ideal that I dream of.With my eyes closed, I see you as you are. So, your image travels with me and my mind revives each of your smiles. Hope that our eyes will cross again in the near future.The gaze behind the gaze is here the vision of my love between its lines.Dedication.
To Lucifer, the fallen angel who tried to change the way the world looked at in the eyes of God.

YCD 2005