The sky has marked its hour, between the darkness of a blanket of smoke enters rapes in the atmosphere bolides of fire or white women comets to bomb the city which fall asleep between the arms of mounts. The horizon is a fire flare, apocalyptic vision that distorts the sense of the things and to the spirit it stretches the ropes of the fear. Thus it is settled down the abyss between that is and that appear, the eternal dualism that ignites the torment of the doubt.

Franca Molinaro