rounded the first corner appears the embrace of Egon Schiele. Emerge behind the wall like an old friend waiting for me watching.
Then I feel a sudden awareness of heaven and earth I go up the sides and that sort of weight in the face that brings me emotions when I visit, as if I were to take to mourn or I would fall a great mask, perhaps oil also, now hardened, and a little dusty-to pieces on the floor, while admiring the picture in silence, his head full of memories to me.
Your naked body among those old sheets of flowers, and your hair spread around so long that sometimes I was afraid that one morning hanging out at dawn. About
Your naked body among those old sheets of flowers, and your hair spread around so long that sometimes I was afraid that one morning hanging out at dawn. About
the contour lines are blue, a dark blue. Among them, the skin is a turbulent flow of color, such as static and bustling cities seen from afar and sand from the beach when you stare for a few seconds ... Without doubt, the texture has something, that something quiet but close and unfathomable, that history moves and crazy that I speak skin people when I look closely.
By far I see the truth through a window.
Upstairs, waiting Klimt, with the ability to undo his light tiles impossible to re-contaminating the color weave with that golden halo of meditation and sensuality that until now only two times I have been involved in life-the first in the Cathedral San Marcos, the second that afternoon in your room.
disarms me with the same look shamanic in a few days to disarm me Medicine when we meet face to face, at the foot of the wall, threatening and wise, contemptuous and maternal : the spring as a sacrament without limits or conditions.
But the emotion of this picture with me all afternoon. Down several times to see him, amazed, full of stillness and acceptance, as if for the first time I looked in a mirror after a long time .
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