Violets, Zitrische Notes
Whiteflower is a drift into a dream, into a mellow feeling, into a misty moment. A house on piers, in the clouds, filled with flowers.I walk up the endless spiral staircase of the Tower of Babel, the origin of all languages, seized in a whirl, unstoppable speed. All these voices echo and mingle in my mind. It makes a deafening sound. Petals sigh under my feet, then silence takes over. I move away for the earth, I see the ocean, the glittering waves, the foam, a bird, the mountains covered in snow. And then I reach the clouds. At the window, no more vertigo, I watch the random choreography of this white matter as it evolves and vanishes in front of my eyes. Sublime and surreal matter. From the inside, I see all the flowers of the world, I’m surrounded by delicacy and exquisite scents. I’m flying.