«What's your favourite colour?» The question had fallen like a boulder on that peaceful autumn afternoon in a suburban neighborhood of The Hague. Lilith, sitting on a white imitation leather sofa in the center of a small apartment furnished in minimal style, looked up from the dossier she was reading, and gave a puzzled look at Izanami, lying on the other end of the white imitation leather sofa, a magazine in one hand, and in the other a pen she was chewing at the cap. «Excuse me?» Izanami snorted and raised her hands, exhibiting a too annoyed expression. «What's up, did you magically forget how to speak English? If y

«Qual è il tuo colore preferito?» La domanda era piombata come un macigno, in quel tranquillo pomeriggio autunnale di un quartiere periferico dell’Aia. Lilith, seduta su di un divano in finta pelle bianco al centro di un piccolo appartamento arredato in stile minimal, alzò gli occhi dal plico di documenti che stava leggendo, e rivolse uno sguardo perplesso ad Izanami, sdraiata all’altro capo del divano in finta pelle bianco, una rivista in una mano, e nell’altra una penna a cui stava mordicchiando il tappo. «Prego?» Izanami sbuffò e alzò le mani, esibendo un’espressione fin tropp

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Mikiko looked at Sky’s face with a critical look. She could hardly recognize him, so much he was covered in bruises, scratches and various wounds. However, even so, literally swollen from beating, the boy maintained a singular beauty: the eyes, of a magnificent blue, clearer than the sky above Rio in the spring days, stood out even more amid the purple bruises that surrounded his eyelids, and the slightly dark skin, tanned by years of sun, seemed to fit perfectly with the scratches that now covered it, as if they had been there forever. Even the lips, broken in several points, and the long brown hair, which now fell disordered on the si

«Hey, you do not need to hold your breath, you know». Yuki leaned from behind the panel on which she was painting, to watch her model. In front of her, Echo von Goethe – aka "the model" – remained motionless. «Echo!» Yuki called her harder, but Echo just looked at her and whispered: «I don’t want you to make mistakes». When Yuki had asked her to be her model for a painting, Echo had taken the task very seriously. The last thing she would had ever expected was to become the subject of a work of art: until then, the women she had seen in paintings were gentle and elegant, while she looked more lik

Dedicated to every artist, in any place, any time, and any form To every creative, visionary and dreamer To who divides their day between eating, sleeping, and seeking inspiration To who have realized their dreams, and to who, like me, are still dreaming To who can hear the sound of silence, and see the color of light To who plays with the shape of words, and to who puts their meaning first To who goes crazy looking for a compromise between form and substance To who “a picture is worth a thousand words”, but isn’t satisfied with even a thousand picture To who captures life in a moment, and to who reinvents it every day To wh