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TURE of this phrase Colette (*) led me to create this short text for my return to my blog. By Norberto Alvarez Debans
He plays the butterfly wing and immediately after is to see the tips of the fingers pinched painted with colored fine powder and dispersed. Sensed image, distress have permanently damaged the fragile insect, free flying butterfly flights in the air of the garden. Their colors and subtleties, suspended in a slow flight, awkward, jumping in the waves of wind. A flight from reality sky garden and final quarters.
A top and bottom, facing the man who observes his wings and fluttering through the sunlight, waiting to fall. That's when making their wings, pressing fingers to escape not to see this little life marveled geometric, almost pop, inspired by nature.
He plays without thinking that the damage, the flight of flight and wings broken, it becomes awkward. The butterfly falls wedged between the flowers, bows slightly, dies ...
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(*) Sidonie Gabrielle Claudine Colette. "Collette" French novelist (1873-1954) cited by the Journal phrase Ñ, Nº 338, Columna Perlas Cultivadas, pág. 2, 20/03/2010.
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