When I leave the house in the morning, the brisk air, the changing season, the faces I see are all elements that often point me in a certain direction. A sound, a smell, a colour, may take me by surprise as by turning a corner I come across other human beings, or I fleetingly peek into the interior of a building through a half-open door. And the day begins to take shape. Then, when I sit down to begin my work, the elements that are on my table, a piece of ebony, a silver wire, the pigments, a piece of metacrilato pierced the day before, all look for each other. They may be organized harmoniously, if it is a good day, or be discordant one against the other, if I am restless. Bright red or sombre, dark ebony chromatic surfaces, azure indigo micro-cosms: these are protected areas, each separate and indipendent where I can rest. There is no coherent thread between one piece and the next, if not the need of a momentary pause, they are other stories, cameos of my mood.