Art

…is about beauty for the sake of Beauty. About motive-less celebration of life. Although not being its objective, Art invigorates and heals as it’s eternally fresh and untainted.

This world’s blatant sickness is therefore aggravated by the very fact that THERE ARE ALMOST NO REAL ARTISTS LEFT – they are suffocated by reckless mercantilism and everybody’s greed to arrive.

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Clarity is beyond entanglement: The end of sorrow, of affect, of conflict.

She talked without…

She talked without uttering a single word…
When she called my name for the first time, I felt her voice knew me…- from an yet unhappened story, from someone else’s dream…from whispers in herself that were others’ unsaid stories in me…
She saw me in all these unseen glimpses. It was love.

I wish someone else played for me…

No wonder that Franz Liszt came here for inspiration…

Abeyance

Quite a view

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