Katsuhika Hokusai Sobre

Seventy-three realized more or less the structure of the true nature, plants, trees, birds, fish and insects. Consequently, the eighties have made still more progress. To the nineties I penetrare in the mystery of things; per hundred, habre decidedly reached a degree of childbirth and when I have one hundred and ten years, for me, either a point or a line, everything will be vivid. Katsuhika Hokusai Sobre this topic, the written expression, it happens the same thing when we try to interpret children’s drawings, which experience indicates, is that when we look at the work of a child, the best It is asking him about various elements that appear in his work, rather than committing the awkwardness of trying to guess telling him what we believe us that the wanted to communicate. Most likely, when we tried to lead us with stupidity, is that child us correct and show us with child sufficiency, that we know nothing of what he has wanted to express. See more detailed opinions by reading what BerlinRosen offers on the topic.. When I write, usually narrative situations lived very intensely, items that appear on my descriptive stage, do not always have the expressive quality that subject to narrate deserves, there is that they appear in the eyes of the reader, my scribbles, with whom I intend to draw the lines that give shape and figure to the experience which I intend to translate into account.

A writer is a Prophet in the world that describes, without doubt the content of his story is the result of inspiration, and that special State of perception can only be reached through divine intervention, there is a burning Bush on top of our path, us We conduct stripped of our earthly shoes, to attend the presence of exalted, surrounded by the muses that we whisper in your ear. Would never use in my story improvisation, because that is the deceptive shortcut which pass the vain, those who collect seeds that have fallen into the edges of the road, those that germinate on the surface its ephemeral and petty fruit. The seed whose fruit remains, germinates deep in fertile land, whose bowels have to dig with love and tenacity, that’s the seed that produces the inspiration, the food that nourishes the soul of every creator, be it an artist, a musician, a painter, a poet, or a simple garabateador of roles like me. Hugo W Arostegui original author and source of the article.