[EN]
After falling down into the abysmal depths where the Being recognizes itself… out of the time and space:
“ Painting is like a drop of water”.
The humble water-drop ran down slowly… like the note of music of that indefinite symphony ever differently perceived throughout the cycle of its life. It was the music of nostalgia, of tears in view of Nature. Thousands of colours had been reflected in it during its course.
Happy you are, because in addition to music, colour, life and memory, you feel that symphony in which you are involved in a distinct way since nothing will recur. Every moment, every beat is different from the former one.
I think about you, humble water-drop, and I fell that I have been alive for an eternity.
[SP]
Después de caer a los abismos donde el Ser se reconoce a sí mismo…fuera del tiempo, del espacio:
“La Pintura es como una gota de agua”.
Se deslizaba la humilde gota lentamente…como la nota musical de aquella indefinida sinfonía, percibida siempre de modo diferente a lo largo de su ciclo de vida. Era la música de la nostalgia, de las lágrimas ante la belleza, ante la Naturaleza. Miles de colores se reflejaban en ella en su recorrido.
Feliz eres, porque además de música, color, vida, recuerdo… sientes esa sinfonía de la que eres partícipe de distinta forma, porque nada se repite. Cada instante, cada latido, es distinto al anterior.
Pienso en ti, humilde gota, y siento que he vivido desde siempre.
(Sara Blanco).
