The feminine personality side


They are the women from our lives. They are the women with whom at least once our roads have intersected or departed to follow their parallel course of ours.

They are the women who just went there, and brought with them the first rays of light. Women in all forms of beauty. Women without whom in our lives would not be able to show up at dawn and night would not be night. Women mature, no matter how young they are. The still beautiful ones, no matter how much they have gone …

Women over which time has failed to remove the color palette of a youth hidden from the too bright light of the first morning sun rays. Women weighed in our minds. Women for whom imagination manages to stay in place, inclining in front of their beauty.

The woman in another vision, seen from another angle of man’s imagination, can dress different facets.

It can take the shape and appearance of … «art herself, woman … is sculpture, woman … is painting, woman … is history, woman … is music, woman … is dance, woman … is comedy, drama and tragedy; woman is poetry herself. «

But after their passing through our lives, the deep wounds of memories are scarred like shells over which sea water has passed their facet. Stories about them turn into an irreversible cycle in fragments of love stories

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