If I were told that any story is behind any picture, I would be tempted to believe it. Those ones of the subjects, same number of the catcher, as many of the spectator. What’s suspended in time, as a story can’t be, simply returns a direct sentiment. It lives soulful in a mood. The one, after having found nothing to be searched of, lets find something brilliant by far than could be expected. Something makes so empty that becomes the most viable way to receiving. Nothing really matters if in a sunny day it is going to rain, as long as tenderness is not lying stiffened by failures. Everything is coming up from far away like a far flung song.
