Untitle work Painting

I feel my points, I feel how they travel, how they populate a void. I feel like I can fly alongside my points. Points that float, walk, run, scream, dance, hide, show themselves, move, cry, laugh, explode; points found in shapeless ones, in hallucinations. Complex, intense, they lead me to travel and lose myself in time. A time that stops, advances, I don't know; time passes and I don't feel it, I don't see it. Time overwhelms me. Time makes me shudder all over. Time, so rhizomatically, decides to make an excursion in my body; Without beginning and without end, the only thing I can feel are his steps, his blows, his falls, his firmness, his weakness, his cowardice. Sometimes I can even feel his anger, I feel it, I feel the traces he is leaving; I feel like it is tearing small rotten portions from each of my organs, I can feel that pain. But I also feel how it is healing, how it is regenerating me whole ... SAVING ME !!!