:: HOY ::

I am now twenty six, i am half of what i hope to be
fortunatelly i am alive unfortunately the same.
Dorian, hus painting of me, whith enourmous eyes, dreamy and sad, appearance of fineness and seriousnes, i see myself inocent, his painting of me gives me the impression of intelligence, sad eyes with constantly smiling lips...
This year, greater strengh .. the symphonic concerts of the birds do not get louder, but my cries of exultations and lost acceptance yes... can others endure it?
I am dreaming of next home...
I bought paints, canvas, brushes, i have started to mix, handle colors. At night i have a fever from visions of silver, persian blue, pomegranate, violet, emerald green, lacquer white, burnt sienna, cobalt blue, vermillion.... am i obsess with byzantinium.?
I hae nothing but a desire to be left alone with my work. Friends have never lasted after deaths more than a few months, noone of them have been worth as much as solitude most of the times... Why doi sometimes feel that i cannot live without them, ?? mmm It is true they enrich my mind, fill my mind but solitude is an active, toughtful, ruminating kinds, that keeps me from having to feed always on myself, .... I want everyone to leave me alone with my journal my books, my paintings and my overcrowded ideas.