A little girl, the Clemantis, the rubble of war

A spontaneous flower from my garden caught my attention, it was beautiful, different from the others, strange, particular, and it seemed to call me, to tell me “C’mon come closer!” I took a photo, observed it, and created an artwork. While I was creating the flower, I felt that there was a passage of something from him to me, I thought about the transmigration of souls, and so I entitled the work.
A few days later I showed it to my mom, I also showed her the photo of the particular flower that I had taken, and as soon as she saw the type of flower she remembered seeing it when she was a four year old girl, and that also she had been struck by the form so particular, and above all because it was the first spontaneous flower that blossomed on the rubble of the war.
And as always I thought about how magical and meaningful life is, how this little flower called me and demanded the attention it deserved, to make me tell this story that goes beyond generations, the same thought, the same feelings handed down by mother to daughter, so much so that I think it is a single energy present in me, in my mother, and in this little flower.


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