Paola Iacopetti

Through the lens / I become tiny / a flower becomes a cathedral / a cloud / a universe you can walk - or swim, crawl,  fly.. - in, / have visions, / and learn about impermanence, / evanescence, life, death, mystery, surrender. / Heaven is here and now.

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Petals become veils, whose colors - light vibrations - mix with the tones of light that permeates them, just like skin vibrates in every single cell upon touch, and upon emotions, thus ceasing to be a border. Synaesthesia, scent of flowers and skin; delicacy, wish of tenderness, of a lovely, wrapping and luminous hug, from soul to soul, of oneness.