Once, as a young boy, I came home from school to find my parents in an euphoric state. They rushed to show me the reason of their excitement. As a surprise, they took one of my many paintings (probably the one that was most of their liking and suitable to their sense of aesthetics), had it framed, giving it a real appearance of a chef-d'oeuvre, and then hung it in the living room wall, in delightful parental pride, so that it would be appreciated by all visitors and by the whole family as well. They stood there, anxiously waiting for my verdict. Now I was a real artist! Finally my work was worthy of a frame! But, to their disappointment, my reaction was less than enthusiastic. I simple said, "It's up-side-down", turned my back and went about my things.
A imagem abandonada converte-se na própria imagem do desamparo - imagem desamparada. Almeja-se esse universo alheio na mais improvável das soluções: que o homem e o menino possam ter tanta afinidade. Estico-me e procuro, como se com a ponta do dedo pudesse desvendar as distâncias; como se todas as coisas boas fossem sucedâneas do tato.
