Living without you
"You have to lose something you care about" - he said - "to finally rise inside yourself”.
Thus come back, exactly the way i am creating you now. One day, this will be the most beautiful of your trips”
And slowly, wrapped in his nest, it died while it looked itself reborning.
In fact, nobody found ashes.
Whether it is the mother who generates the son or the son that generates himself from the mother who is leaving?
Same factors, the same equation.
Natural posting.
Before giving birth, then the growth, then the transition.
Death or genesis?
The end or the beginning?
Same pain.
Identical rebirth.
In the journey of life.
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Contact, clash, opposite,contrary, addition, negation.
Circle, vortex, an essence of emotions in a direct writing style straight in relation with itself.
An agglomerate of feelings, a fantastic landscape where hopes and depressions die while memories live again.
Emotion turns into colour, disclousing what i feel.
I am.
Incontrovertibly.
The colour feeds the soul and the soul learns again to feed the body through a deep world made of dark corners and light waves that, over the years, give back the life.
This is my painting.
Sylvie Renault’s painting.
Artist of Imperfect Circles.
Imperfect painter, Imperfect woman that chose the strictest among all the techniques, not to chase the perfection but to emphatize the imperfection.
On my canvas, as in the life, mistakes are not cancelled or disguised.
Neither stressed.
Simply accepted.
And, by accepting them they become the main value of the work, as in the life itself.
Because to make mistake means to live.
And only the experience gives back what the mind mislead.
Feeling in love with my circles, you will feel in love with yourselves.
Because I am telling about everyone.
About all of us, so perfectly imperfect.
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