Poetically and idealistically, I could describe myself as someone who lives within a maze, chased by the Minotaur, and from which Theseus and Ariadne emerged after the fall of Icarus. I imagine that Daedalus, renouncing his wings, closed himself within his own labyrinth after the death of his son Icarus, eternally adding bits and pieces. He would look longingly at the sky, pacing and following echoes while cultivating his metamorphic garden; Cyparissus soared into the abyss, the wind and water vibrated, and the sun cast playful shadows as if to scorn him. I’d turn all this into poetry…

TOMASO BUZZI