There is the magic of music. The beginning of a sonata, the first descending melody line of the viola, there is the piano, it is already there, the emotion; the atmosphere created by tones overcomes me and touches me, puts me into a special mood.

There is the magic of painting and poetry, of films, words and images, there is the magic of resplendent thoughts. There is also the magic of the real, the material, the physical, of the things surrounding me, the things I see and touch, I smell and hear. Occasionally, in certain moments, this magic that is induced in me by particular architectural or landscape surroundings, by a certain milieu, is suddenly there, appearing as if the soul were slowly growing, without me noticing it at first.