pen and watercolour on paper
1998 - 500 x 190 mm

Rospico comment part IV:

When back at Carmelo's place, it was time for dinner. (In France they eat much later than in Flanders.) Roselyne, Carmelo's wife, noticed something and asked me why I was so absent. I told them I had been at Rospico cove. Carmelo laughed and said there was not much to see there. I didn't tell what I experienced. I just couldn't.

I've been to Rospico again, and each time I am in the neighbourhood, I visit it. Usually there are many local people there, even grandmothers with their grandchildren. But I never saw her again. And if I didn't have one small, bad photograph, which I won't share, I'd be inclined to assume it was just a dream. Which it was, but then in real life.
Whatever: it was one of the happiest moments in my life, far from the frenzied crave for creative intensity that mercilessly pushes me to go further and deeper, just like as if my life depended on it.