Eternal childhood – with delicate demands… No reflections have been gathered in the same-hue gardens– A journey seems too physical across the crossroad of bridges.
Arriving at your dusty but light palette my hand touches an opposite crossroad of a garden overlooking a single dimensional bench by a gazebo.
There's a supreme sanctuary – so rare that a falling luminosity is fluid and can be captured. All of its changes are layers of immaculacy gardening life where each fragrant flower I put into my hair is a butterfly.
Permanent maps of curly wind challenge all lanterns. Only Light could show me where I am by throwing ropes of colored aroma to impatient foliage. Inside the light of a blossom the day never ends.
For some reason I can't wait to be mixed up into the chaste pigments of all experiences. For some reason I can't wait for the journey which is the only way to reach the Light.
In the new earth I believe there will be a place where each of us will be able to choose and create a sanctuary for worship. I believe that certain things will be somewhat similar to the earth and many things completely different. This is the garden and a mansion I would like to plant and build. In fact, the colors in the original painting are so unique and mysterious that it was almost impossible to reproduce them for the print reproduction.