"The other wind comes from the imaginary archipelago, where, as children, we built its mythology and traveled it. Or rather this called us and traveled us, but growing up we stopped believing it. And yet his wind has never stopped blowing freely within us, it is that light breeze that we feel every now and then disturbing our logic and freeing us from the illusions of everyday life. It comes from so far away that the language of the first man, the language of the magicians, the ancient language of creation can still be heard in its breath. Let us listen to his whisper in painting, which names things as secrets and searches for them in their deep and primordial entity".