blue print Italy

...The desk of a computer. Or the blank paper. Total blackout. Doesn’t it always start like this for everyone? Yet it always ends with something to leaf through. Something that has thickness, weight, many colors, a smell. It’s inevitable. In the beginning, you know how it will end, just not where to start. "And suddenly not a word comes, but the thought of tall windows: the glass absorbing the sun, and beyond, the deep blue air...".