A single season for equation, the season of the body, the season of the spirit.
The hand moves forward, the brush commands.
Presence of the moon, the wind blows, a smoking hill, a pensive man / on horseback, umbrella headgear, volcanic contemplation / smoke straddled direction Napoli, still fumarole / shaggy characters leaving, rod in hand, hand on hip / Mickey fishing / the distracted forgetting his hands / isolated clouds, turquoise scattering, green reflection / Hopla / blah blah blah / the great decisions are made by two: my dog and me, my raven and me, my bear and me, my mouse and me, my horse and me, me and me, blah blah blah / the right profile, erased profile, here we are at our destination, pink / Hopla-parachute, lost in the purple.
A perfect day
Hervé Creff in search of a temporality to feed, to enrich, perhaps his present.
Pierre & Ji Sun
