Cycling

Actually, in writing these stories, I proceed like a painter: in front of me is a white canvas that I want to fill with color. That blank canvas in these novellas is mostly a man with a limited existence, colorless, lonely and withdrawn. Then he encounters a cat, dog, child, horse or woman who colors that blank canvas. The man comes to life, which he puts at the service of the other. This delights his atrophied altro. A kind of reset and play, given to him bestowed by the gods or fate, or simply by his own desire.

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