...a Strange Art – Music – The

I Told Myself: 'i Am Surrounded By Unknown Things.' I Imagined Man Without Ears, Suspecting The Existence Of Sound As We Suspect So Many Hidden Mysteries, Man Noting Acoustic Phenomena Whose Nature And Provenance He Cannot Determine. And I Grew Afraid Of Everything Around Me – Afraid Of The Air, Afraid Of The Night. From The Moment We Can Know Almost Nothing, And From The Moment That Everything Is Limitless, What Remains? Does Emptiness Actually Not Exist? What Does Exist In This Apparent Emptiness?

The Essence Of Life Is The Smile Of Round Female Bottoms, Under The Shadow Of Cosmic Boredom.

In Fact Living Is Dying.

Were A Man To Spend Only One Day In Sicily And Ask, "what Must One See?" I Would Answer Him Without Hesitation, "taormina." It Is Only A Landscape, But A Landscape Where You Find Everything On Earth That Seems Made To Seduce The Eyes, The Mind And The Imagination.

To Contest An Author's Right To Create A Poetic Or Realistic Work Is To Want To Force Him To Change His Temperament, Challenge His Originality, Refuse To Allow Him To Use The Eye And The Intelligence Nature Has Given Him.