Dreams & Desires
Seemingly the same thing. No way. Dreams, like horses running wild in our subconscious, are unpredictable and they may split to their favourite nightmare version in a nano-second, as in this painting where fresh cut flowers were turning dry, paint brush after paint brush. Indeed, as Madoi was trying to put something joyous and coloured on the white canvas full of light and promises of his inner dreams, unconsiously he could not avoid to add a black background, black as the unknown region of his mind, and he was forced to witness, quite helpless, to the drying of his creatures, the one he nurtured for hours and, if lucky, he could only salvage the mere idea of his Dream and hope in another opportunity to re-set the game.
Desires, on the contrary, being safe inside his inner self, never shown, never consigned to the dangers of a confidence, hidden and protected as precious gems, may be they rested there forever, inside his mind, never facing the real world while loosing in this way the possibility of seeing them grow, mature and become something visible, real and satisfying. Who knows..
The road he choosed was not leading to an unconditional surrender. After a couple of nights and days of something like mourning he could always find tons of courage and strenght to make mincemeat of any sort of turn down, fearless in facing the refusals that the supermen - temporarily in charge of the power of deciding the sort of other human beings - were enjoying to inflict him, conscious of the fact that these denials were always coming from little men. But Madoi's survival secret was that he knew when to stop so to get his breath back and keep his rage on the lead and be free to study new strategies for the same project or for other bigger and more daring ones.