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Early story of my feathers

or why I have the urge to do this

It is hard for me to start this story. Specially now that my heart is closed down and I have put all my hope in this one, my latest and probably last project, expecting that it will help me understanding the mystery of my strangely determined soul. Looking carefully at the signs to find the truth behind, will help me connecting the lost traces and draw the track of a longer now.

I barely spoke when little and barely speak now. I conceived the world through images and have slowly lost the ability to live life otherwise now. I am trapped in the sight. I have lost my voice, but through all my eyes I am still chanting for a different world to the one I am forced to live in. Images scream louder than words.


Barcelona, 2012 © Macu Moran

In the crossroads of Art, Science and Spirituality I have spent this lifetime, and who knows how many others, dissecting existence. I have not got too many insights anyways. Nothing that any other person would not find out sooner or later. So I feel I have wasted most of the time in a vacuum, and I barely have anything important to share with other humans and therefore my biggest fear, that of a pointless life, has come true.

And then I quickly run into my archive of memories. That which has been venerating Life itself for so long. That vast archive of captures that did not come out of me, but from the unconceivable magic that runs through us, and is here to lead us the way. How could I reject such a precious guide when lost in the eye of the storm?


León, 2015 © Macu Moran

To be continued...

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