I use long paper rolls to write the everyday story of my existence. This scrolling paper is my endless manuscript made of the skin of my soul.

I take off layer after layer the dead skin to peel off the shell of my still alive soul. The pain comes when the perception of reality cut out symbols directly on the fresh skin. The images are something what is happening now. They are the reflection of my true existence in the world.

The Soul is a Cocoon, and through this pain occurs in its catharsis and exposes its true nature, which in the end gives freedom to a beautiful butterfly.