From a letter to a friend.

Sweet colleague artist, it is necessary again, I have to write you. I get further and further away from the world of the thinking man. 

People talk talk talk. I can no longer follow conversations, it is as if the people who utter the words live on a cloud high in the sky. It is not us artists, it’s the realists who dream, who think, who think that the truth is contained in thinking. They speak with words words words. "It's not real!" I want to shout at them! See that everybody and everything is beautiful. That everybody and all things are as they should be. That’s the beauty of life. No need to put words on top of it.

(Okay, with 8 billion people on the planet we need to organize and thinking is a useful tool. Glad I don’t have to.)


Fernando Pessoa writes on the birth of heteronomy as Alvaro de Campos, «when I felt a sudden impulse to write and didn’t know what of», he then adds «suddenly and moving in opposite direction to Ricardo Reis, a different character impetuously emerged. In a flash, at the typewriter, free of interruption or revision, Alvaro Campos’ "Triumphal Ode" was born — the Ode of this name and the man of the man he was».

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