A careful and sensitive observer of trees will certainly not miss how they can be transparent, not just in a dream-like dimension, but also as experienced in reality.
A tree is a mosaic of emptiness and fullness whose leaves are pieces that endlessly change colour. Fiore’s poetic eye sees beyond the illusory veil of phenomena, precisely identifying the body of that absence present more than ever in the mysterious intangibility that animates beings and things.
Is a branch perhaps worthier than the air in which it swings? It is not the wind then that shapes the logs and smoothes the bark with the tenacity of a skilled sculptor? The blue oxygen creates the rustle of leaves and, vibrating in fuzzy halos, translates itself into material sounds as if to restore the ancestral and symbiotic harmony of a full emptiness, like water in water.