The working title of the series was Everything but everything broke into a thousand pieces and this became the more logical title. Then I broke, not literally, but naturally, as for all young people who constantly spill themselves.
You break wherever you find! You quite crack, tear to pieces, spread whenever and wherever it happens. Chance. No. A must.
Abysses, golden palms, tight sunsets, spilt memories, favourite panels, some people, others only golden. Everything gathers in your head and spills into pieces. Delicately, studiously until dawn, you are busy sticking pieces of the old world into the new world just hatched, one newly built body.
A piece is a part of the whole and the purpose of the epicentre is to break in order to gather, and to gather in order to spill, to transcend into another space, another fluidity, another crossing point. Everything has been different before it becomes close, or yours, or mine.