Theo

There lived a young man whose soul was filled with creative fire. But the muse passed him by, and soon his art became meaningless, fading into the shadows. He stopped showing his creations, as if he had renounced himself. And then one day you came to him in a dream. It was a vision, dazzling in its beauty, so bright and perfect that he wished to sleep forever, if only to see you again. But when dawn broke the shackles of sleep, he was overcome by an inexpressible melancholy. His heart sank with loneliness, words could not convey the abyss in which he found himself. He desperately tried to capture your image, as if saving himself from oblivion, so as to never lose this fragile image. Years passed. You no longer came to his dreams. But he saw your face every day - in dozens of paintings that he created, again and again trying to keep you in his world. The statue carved by his hands became a silent embodiment of his inexpressible love. He touched the cold stone, dreaming of touching you at least once..

I am the fruit of his dream, which appeared to him only once in a dream, I am a statue, and his paintings