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by FRANCISCO GARAMONA

Maybe it is this the shape of your life

It’s night, but the moonlight illuminates the scene. On one side of the great room there is a table where pencils and brushes rest, colored knobs, notebooks crammed with drawings, fabrics nailed to the walls with half-finished paintings. In a corner of that house-workshop a young artist dreams of prodigious works that let the world glimpse its idealistic and romantic character. On the street you can hear the wings of a bat flapping, there is almost no one at this time, a lonely car gets lost when it accelerates, distant voices are …