We enter and leave the Monad with the same rhythm with which we enter and leave the passion of burning bodies. Without soaring to the stars and descending to the caves, without the perfect
and the imperfect, human beings would not exist – and there would be neither the life nor the sense of God. We dwell in the bowels of Mother Earth, lulled by her warmth and fed by the earthy
unconscious of the ONE. The warmth of the cave defeats the monsters of our fears and lulls us, giving form and soul to our illusions, which are projected as shadows on the walls: temple and
shrine, life and death of every living creature. The tension of Logos embraces the fusion of the finite and the infinite, being and nothingness, to create a perpetual orgasmic conception. It is
in this cave, dug into the Earth, that the presence of God becomes a tangible mirage through the fire of passion and towards which our limbs stretch forth to have knowledge of him in all his
forms and most secret emotion. Light becomes corporeal and pierces the darkness, seeming to burst forth from what was previously virgin earth, leaving behind the sense of sin, because through
sinning we recognise ourselves. Light makes all appearance possible and only drops of light show us the way back home. Here, lying in the mystical body of Mother Earth, and rising again under the
gaze of the golden rays of the sun, sanctifies the madness of the shepherds in their quest for the lost world where only the magic of art can give peace and hope.